The time had come for me to move out. Tag loads my bags into his car, the silence between us filled with tension. I know he doesn’t want me to leave, but I want to do this for me.
“Is that everything?” he asks, his tone subdued.
“Yes.”
He opens the door for me, and I get in while he walks around the car and gets in the driver’s seat.
“It’s only five minutes away,” I say, twisting my body to face him.
“I know,” he says. “You’ll call me if you need anything, right?”
I nod, but I wasn’t sure that I would. Tag had done more than enough for me, and I can’t keep asking him for more. He reaches his hand over hand and rests it on my thigh, leaving it there for the rest of the ride.
Tag parks the car then gets out and carries my bags. We walk up one flight of stairs, and then I look for room twenty-eight.
“This way, Sweetheart,” Tag says, pointing to the right. I follow next to him until we walk up to the door. Knocking, I look at Tag’s face as we wait. Staring at the muscle ticking in his jaw, I turn when the door opens. A man stands there, dressed in nothing but a pair of basketball shorts sitting low on his lean hips. His body was toned, lithe. An athlete’s body. This was one of my roommates?
His eyes widen. “You Clara?”
I nod.
He puts his hand out. “Brandon.”
I shake his hand and then he raises it to his lips, placing a kiss there. “Nice to meet you.”
Tag clears his throat and moves closer to me. Brandon takes him in and takes a step back.
“This is Tag,” I say.
Tag grins, all teeth. “My woman gonna be safe here?”
Brandon nods, swallowing. “She will.”
“Good,” Tag replies in a smug tone.
Brandon gives us a quick tour. The apartment has three bedrooms and two bathrooms and is quite lovely and spacious. Tag carries my bags to my new room then sits on the bed, looking around.
“I don’t like it.”
“Tag—”
“I know, you want to do this, but for the record Clara, I don’t fuckin’ like it.”
“Noted,” I reply, my mouth twitching.
“Don’t like the way that fucker looked at you either. He wants you.”
“Tag, be serious.”
“I am,” he grits out, like the admission kills him. “He comes onto you or hassles you in anyway, you’re moving out, Clara.”
“Tag, stop being a caveman and fuck me in my new room.”
That shuts him up.
*****
During the next week, Tag becomes distant. I don’t like it, but I don’t know how to fix it. He calls every now and again to check on me, and he picks me up for work even though I tell him I can find my own way there, but he’s not the same. On our day off, I catch the bus to his house in the late afternoon to talk to him about what’s going on. I wanted to surprise him, but it turns out I was the one who ended up being surprised.
I knock on the door, fiddling with my hair as I wait for him to open it. When he does, my eyes widen as I see him dressed up, as if going out somewhere.
“Clara? What are you doing here?” he asks, glancing behind him.
“I want to talk to you…” I say, trailing off.
Something is wrong.
Is someone in the house with him?
The thought makes my chest squeeze tightly.
“Tag!” A woman calls out.
My eyes bore into his.
“Of course,” I whisper. “You’re always single.”
I see him flinch. I wasn’t here in the house now, so he is moving on.
Without me.
And without telling me.
So, what? I was going to be kept on the side as his personal sex toy while he did whatever he wanted? Did he truly think I was that pathetic to go along with it? Or maybe he thought I’d never find out. Either way, I’m disappointed. I’m hurt. I’m angry. But most of all, I’m heartbroken.
I’d fallen for this man.
He’d been my knight in shining armour on more than one occasion, given me hope when I need it the most. But right now, he wasn’t that man. He was Tag, the man who was afraid to commit and was going to ruin what we had because of it.
The woman walks up behind him and puts her had on his abs. Tag looks down at her hand, scowling, but he doesn’t remove it.
“What’s going on?” the woman asks in an accented voice.
“Clara—”
“Yeah, don’t bother,” I reply, turning around and walking away.
Don’t cry, Clara.
Heading back towards the bus stop, I’m almost there when I hear him call my name. He was coming after me, but it was too late now. The damage was done. He tried to warn me, he did. This was my fault.
A bus pulls up, finally something going right. I jump on, scan my pass, take a seat, and watch as Tag stands there, watching the bus drive away.
My phone starts to ring, but I don’t answer.
I go home and start to cry as soon as my face hits the pillow.
*****
“You okay?” Brandon asks as I resurface from my self-imposed seclusion.
I nod. “I will be.”
“You want me to make you something to eat?” he asks, nodding towards the fridge.
Turns out, Brandon is a nice guy. And Tag was right, he does like me.
“No, it’s okay. Where’s Ellen?” I ask. She was our other roommate, and not home often.
“She has classes.”