Dont Judge Me Ch 19

It was a beautiful suburb.

Not one of those ones where every house is a postcard, and not one full of mansions. No, it was a place that just felt normal, and safe. Some kids were riding bikes and skateboards. Someone was trimming their hedge. A lady was walking a dog. I've never really thought of myself as a 'burbs kind of girl, but I really liked the feel of the area, and that surprised me.

I didn't ask Darryl, "Are we nearly there yet?", despite a rising urge. My heart fluttered, and I fidgeted silently in the back seat, wondering at every turn whether we were about to pull up in front of Angelo's house.

What sort of house would it be?

Would he be standing out the front? Maybe waving as we drive up?

No, of course not. That's stupid.

But what was about to happen? I didn't know. I was frantically trying not to run scenarios through my excited and confused mind. I fretted impatiently as we snaked through the suburb, between leafy trees and generous space for parking cars on the side of the road.

Finally, the car pulled up. I looked frantically at the houses on both sides of the street as if I was going to be able to tell which was the right one. They all looked like perfectly nice, normal sorts of houses. I had no information to go on. I was lost.

Darryl, after a moment, indicated the house on the corner on the right hand side of the car, saying, "That's the one". It was larger than the others, two storeys. The letterbox was a scale model of the house itself. I took it all in, the little hedges under the front windows, the slightly broken guttering on the left side of the house, under a large tree that presumably caused damage in heavy storms, everything.

"Ok, thanks Darryl. I really owe you one!" I excitedly babbled as I burst the door open.

"What I mean is," Darryl interrupted my urgent motion. He waggled his index finger not at the house on the corner but at the one next door, slightly smaller, still picturesque, in a rustic way, with a rose arbor out front, and ivy climbing the walls. "You did say you wanted the house next to that one, right?"

I followed his finger to the ivy-laden house, failing for a moment to comprehend. But then it started dawning on me. I had asked him to take me to the house next door to Angelo's, so he was presumably indicating... "Angelo's house?", I queried, at which he tilted his head in acknowledgement. I continued as though in full control of the conversation, "Yes. Yes, that's right. The one next door," I was relieved that Darryl was rescuing me from falling into a trap of my own making.

"You know...", I added, as I climbed out. "While I'm here, I might just pop my head in and see him. I mean, it's not every day I visit the house next door to Angelo's house, now, is it? It would be positively rude to just walk right by, don't you think, Darryl?"

"You make a fair point, miss," Darryl agreed with a smile.

Somehow, as I passed through the rose arbor, it was like I suddenly woke up from a dream, and found myself in a hyper-real scenario that felt completely out of place. Where on earth was I, and why was I here? Just the previous morning I had thought I would be playful in a short skirt, and now I was... what? Turning up at the house of a guy I had met only the previous night, as part of some elaborate fantasy? I stopped, and chewed my lip, considering how, or whether, to proceed.

After a moment, it was the conscious phrase, "Should I go back to the limo?" that broke me out of my paralysis. I mean, if exiting the situation involves going "back to the limo", and having the driver take me home, then the whole thing must be a dream anyway, because there are not limousines or drivers in my life! So why not just press forward?

Having resolved the indecision, I pressed forward to the cosy front door, surrounded as it was with climbing ivy. I used the knocker before I could lose my nerve, knocking three times.

And then I waited.

Suddenly, the door popped open, to reveal a bright-faced young woman. It took a fraction of a second to register her fully, as my mind raced through possibilities of what this unexpected event could mean.

First of all, she was gorgeous. I mean, she was just a fucking delight to behold. Her playful ringlets bounced happily in a pretty frame around her fresh, joyful face. Her lips full, her skin flawless, and her eyes devastatingly pretty, with minimal makeup expertly applied. What she wore would, on anyone else, have been incongruous, but somehow on her it completely worked. She wore a man's formal button-up shirt with a bow-tie collar which extended half way down her bare thighs, dwarfing her cute little red shorts, only visible because the shirt was not done up and it gaped innocently to reveal the little shorts and crop-top beneath. The nonchalantly rolled-up sleeves were in perfect dimensions with her generous bust, and her neat little feet wore only ankle socks.

Immediately, I saw past her arm to the sideboard full of photos. It took less than a heartbeat to find the photograph of this impossibly beautiful girl laughing and playing with a large dog, accompanied by an also laughing Angelo. I looked back at here and recognized the shirt she was wearing. It was Angelo's.

FUCK!

I mean, They have a fucking dog! Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I froze. My heart shrank into a hard little ball. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to anywhere else on the planet but here. Anywhere. A volcano? Fine. A pool of boiling mud. Let's go. Antarctica? I'm all in. Just let me, the plain-Jane girl from town, not be standing here in my stupid black and floral dress in the suburbs, thinking I have some sort of right to this angelic woman's man.

"I... I... I'm so sorry. Oh my god. I'm sorry," was my stumbled response to her inviting and expectant look, leaning, as she was, casually on the open door looking like the cover of a magazine. I backed away, and she looked genuinely confused.

I had the presence of mind to scan her thoughts. Her mind was a trove of innocence and naivete. I even discerned, before I turned and ran, the deep, warm affection and closeness she shared with Angelo.

Tears flowing, I almost tripped on the uneven stones of the path as I bolted away from the horrifying situation I had landed myself in, scolding myself mercilessly. What a fucking idiot I was! What a pathetic dumbass. Angelo spent the night with me as part of his job. Whether he enjoyed it or not is irrelevant. I had no claim on him. I had no right to come within a mile of the home he shared with that fucking stunning girlfriend of his, who loves him and surely makes him happy.

What was I thinking?

I reached the limo with a thump, using my collision with it to slow myself down. I fumbled urgently with the door until I managed to fling it open and leap inside. Darryl, who had been reading a book, was clearly shocked and surprised. He spun around, only to find I was face-down on the seat, screaming, "DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE!"

Not knowing what else to do, he turned and awoke the enormous, quietly powerful motor. The car began to move, and then immediately stopped sharply again, hurling me to the floor. There was banging on the bonnet, and Darryl, initially having cursed at the need to make such a violent stop with a passenger on board, then stared out the window and said, "What the fuck!"

I had to see what was happening. Why weren't we escaping? I popped up like a mere-cat on the savanna, and there, right in front of the car with both hands on the bonnet, was a wild-looking, naked, wet Angelo. He was banging on the bonnet to signal Darryl to stop the car.

"The fuck, man? I coulda kill you!" Darryl was talking to himself, because Angelo surely wouldn't hear him through the near bullet-proof glass.

What had I done? This was worse than just slinking away from his happy home. What was happening? Was I a home-wrecker, now? I fell back to the floor and yelled, "Just get me out of here oh my god oh my god drive, please for the love of god drive!"

Darryl was shouting back, "I can't drive. He's right there. What's going on?!?"

I kept yelling, "Drive!"

Angelo moved around to the driver's window to implore Darryl to open up. This put Angelo's dangling genitals right in the window in front of Darryl's face, to which he reacted, "Oh, man! Seriously?"

But he lowered the window, against my continuing objections.

Angelo was babbling through the Window, not making a lot of sense. He was calling my name, and I was screaming into my hands to block it out. He was asking, "What happened? What are you doing here? Why did you run? What's going on?"

"Leave me alone!" I screamed.

"Leave you alone?" he blubbered in disbelief. "You're the one that came here!"

Darryl started to interject, "Look, man. Maybe just back off for now, ok? We can sort it out when everyone... calms down." He was obviously a peace maker.

"Ah, you're right," an exasperated Angelo pushed himself back from the car and threw his hands up through his soaking wet hair. I was able to peek through the heavily tinted back window of the limo without being seen. He was as magnificent as ever, completely naked and tantalizingly wet, and I now noticed he had suds in his hair. He had obviously jumped out of a shower to come out here. But why?

The car wasn't moving.

"Darryl. Drive!" I urged in a stage whisper. But immediately I saw why he couldn't.

As if it weren't awful enough, with Angelo jumping around and shouting, naked, in the middle of the street, just advertising to the whole world that I was "the other woman", the scarlet letter, the whore. As if I hadn't been humiliated to the fullest extent already, it got worse.

The beautiful woman had come out and was standing in front of the car asking Angelo what was going on. She was handing him a towel to cover himself. Her voice was impossibly soft and sweet, and it seemed impossible to imagine she didn't know what this was. We surely were about to have a screaming match, and I was most certainly "the asshole" in the picture. I was the psycho girl stalking this beautiful, innocent girl's boyfriend. I was the usurper, the interloper. I was invading her happy home, trying to dig my claws into her man. She should skin me alive and fillet me. But she wouldn't, because she was so fucking sweet and innocent.

I shrank right down to the floor, wishing myself gone.

"Angelo," she was sweetly calling. "Put a towel on, you numpty. What's all this about?"

She approached the driver's window and said, "Oh, hi Darryl. What's going on? Did that pretty girl come with you? Where did she go? Who was she?"

"Hi Nia," Darryl replied, and then sort of mumbled to a stop, not knowing how to tactfully just not answer the questions that weren't appropriate for him to answer.

"What did you say to her?" Angelo said, peering vainly into the tinted back window of the limo. I could see him clearly, from my crouched position on the floor, but he would not be able to see anything inside, no matter how hard he tried.

"Nothing!" she objected with a squeal. "I just opened the door and she ran off apologizing. Honest. I didn't do anything!"

"Well, you obviously scared her off, Nia. There must be more to it than that." Angelo was obviously cross, and demanding, but he wasn't being overbearing.

"I promise!" she squealed. He threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Look, you might as well go, mate," he said to Darryl in resignation. "Just... can you just ask her if we can meet up, maybe? Somewhere that's not here..." Oh, yeah. Like that was going to happen. He would take advantage of his unbelievably innocent girlfriend that way? What kind of a piece of work was he? "... somewhere where my precious little sister can't screw it up for me again."

"You got it," Darryl responded, and eased the car into motion again.

It took several seconds to comprehend what had happened. Peering out the tinted window I was looking at Angelo, a towel wrapped around his waist, scowling at the moist beautiful woman on earth, who was his... sister?

His sister! Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense. I mean he's beautiful, she's beautiful. It kinda scans. And the photo? Well why wouldn't they play together with a dog, and keep a picture of that? A family pet.

Huh. I guess i got that wrong, I pondered, as we proceeded down the street.

Wait.

"STOP THE CAR!" I screamed. Darryl jumped on the brakes, and once again I was thrown to the floor by the g-forces.

"What? What's wrong?" he urgently asked, looking all around for the danger.

I climbed back up onto the seat. "That woman. She's Angelo's sister?" I asked breathlessly.

"Nia? Yeah. She's staying with him while she goes to college," He had a confused, searching expression, trying to figure out the point of my question.

Two deeply conflicting emotions poured over me. One was relief and hope, because he didn't have a spectacularly beautiful girlfriend at all. He had a little sister. And she was awesome. The other was a tidal wave of self deprecating scorn and shame. What a monumental fool I had been. What a scene I had caused! What a crushing, humiliating, stupid series of faux pas. It really didn't matter any more that he had no girlfriend. I mean, after this he surely won't want anything to do with me, the crazy psycho girl.

I started to sob. I couldn't stop. It was a coming down off all the adrenaline, it was the relief, it was the shrinking feeling of horror at the terrible scene I had caused. It was the loss of Angelo by my own stupid actions. I just cried and cried.

Darryl was at a loss. He didn't know what was going on, and had no idea what to do. I scanned his mind and saw that he honestly could not figure out what I was on about, and could not predict what I would do next. Poor guy.

So we stayed there. I don't know how long we were there, but presently Angelo was at one window and Nia at the other, both panting from the exertion of apparently running after the car to see what had happened. It was the worst and best thing that could have happened.

It was the best, because I desperately wanted to be able to believe that I could be with Angelo, and that Nia might be my friend. But the worst, because I couldn't bear the shame and I just wanted to shrink and drop through the floor of the car in the face of Angelo in particular.

They were both trying the door handles and knocking on the glass. I couldn't bear the thought of letting them in. It would somehow make all the most awful moments of the recent disaster extra real, and rub them in my face. There was no way I could face that.

"Shall I unlock the doors, miss?" Darryl tentatively asked, apparently uncertain what sort of response he might get.

I sighed in surrender to the torture chamber of my own making. "Fine," I responded. Let the humiliation begin, I suppose. Don't judge me.