With a heavy sigh, I stood up from the couch and grabbed my cigarette pack. If I stayed inside, I'd end up either jerking off or blowing my brains out—or both. Neither sounded appealing.
I stepped out onto the second-floor walkway. The narrow strip stretched past all the rooms, with a rusty metal railing and chipped concrete floor. I leaned against the railing, lit a smoke, and took a long drag, letting the smoke crawl out of my lungs like tired breath.
The air outside was cooler. Still, heavy. The motel was surrounded by overgrown forest, and the office sat dimly lit across the small lot. In the distance, the hum of cicadas buzzed under the darkening sky.
I stood there, silent. Thinking about nothing. Thinking about everything.
My sex life was a joke. Dry as hell. Not for lack of skill—hell, I wasn't bad in bed. I knew what I was doing. But lately? Between work, debt, and emotional exhaustion, I hadn't had time to even want someone. I was rusty. Out of rhythm. Fucking celibate by accident.
As I flicked ash over the edge and reached for a second cigarette, the motel door next to mine creaked open. I glanced over lazily.
She stepped out, that pregnant woman. Jay, I think her name was. Curvy, dark-skinned, and honestly kind of stunning in a raw, worn-down way. Her mascara was smudged under her eyes, hair tousled in a beautiful mess of locks. She was… thirty? Maybe a little older?
She moved slowly, one hand pressed to her lower back as she leaned against the railing, breath still shallow from whatever she just endured. She lit a cigarette with trembling fingers, her lips parting around the filter like she needed that first drag more than air.
Then the man followed… not her boyfriend, though.
He stepped out grinning, slapped her ass with casual arrogance, and started heading down the stairs without even a goodbye. She didn't watch him go.
"Fucking cunt," she muttered under her breath, eyes cast downward.
I said nothing. Just inhaled, watching the soft glow of her lighter flicker in the corner of my eye.
We stood in silence. Smoke curling around us.
She looked over, not quite meeting my eyes. "Keep this a secret, please."
I didn't flinch. Didn't turn to her. My gaze stayed locked on the treeline beyond the parking lot, where the trees swayed in the wind like they didn't give a damn about anything either.
"Sure."
Some stranger came up the stairs, scrolling through his phone like he was double-checking an address. As soon as he caught sight of Jay, he stopped, locked the screen, and walked over with a sleazy grin.
Jay turned to him, smile spreading—too wide, too clean. Fake as hell. The dark circles under her eyes were impossible to hide, even under her messy mascara and practiced charm.
"Jay, right?" the man asked, eyeing her swollen belly without shame. "Always wanted to fuck a pregnant chick."
"Mm, yes, baby," she purred, slipping her arm into his. "Room's right here."
They disappeared behind her door.
I just stood there, leaned into the railing, watching the stars peek out behind the treetops like some disinterested audience. Never took her for the cheating type—but then again, what the hell did I know about anyone? People did weird shit to cope.
I smoked the rest of my cigarette down to the filter, flicked it off into the lot, and went back into my room.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind me, the moaning started. Fast. Loud. Desperate. The guy was plowing her like a damn animal.
I dropped onto the couch, cock already swelling in my pants from the sounds bleeding through the wall. Her breathy cries. The slap of skin. I shook my head, muttered, "Pathetic," and still opened a porn site anyway.
Pulled up some lesbian video, something soft, at least. Something that didn't make me feel like a fucking creep. I sat there, jerking off with one hand, phone in the other, trying not to focus on Jay's voice from the other room—but failing miserably.
"Don't be so rough—ugh…"
"Shut up, whore."
The rhythm behind the wall changed. Got faster. Harder. Violent. Something shifted. My breath caught.
Then—
"Stop!" she yelled. "Don't!"
A loud thud cracked through the wall like furniture had hit it.
I lowered the volume on my phone and sat up. Heart kicking.
Another bang.
"Don't punch my belly!" she screamed. "What the fuck? You're hurting the baby!"
"I paid!" he roared back. "Shut up and take it!"
"No!"
"Fucking whore! I'll kill you and that baby!"
Everything stopped.
I sat frozen, dick limp, worrying for her. My pulse thundered in my ears. Was that part of a sick roleplay—or was Jay actually in danger?
Didn't matter. I wasn't about to take that gamble.
I yanked my pants up, shoved my phone into my pocket, and rushed out. My boots hit the walkway hard as I marched to her door and slammed my fist against it.
"Jay!" I shouted. "Hey! Open up!"
"No!" her voice screamed from inside.
"Fuck…" I hissed. "Open it up—open it now!"
The door finally cracked open, and the man stood there, chest heaving, shirt half on. And behind him—Jay. On the floor. Her nose bleeding, both hands clutching her belly like a shield. I saw the red marks across her skin. Real, ugly bruises already forming.
"The fuck are you doing?" I barked, pointing at her. "Look at her, you psycho!"
The guy didn't answer. Just threw a punch straight into my face. Real fucking jerk… I stumbled back, smacked into the railing. My lip split open. Fuck.
He came again, this time, hands to my throat.
Wrong move.
I grabbed his shirt collar, yanked him forward, and slammed my forehead into his nose. A satisfying crunch. He reeled back, clutching his face.
I didn't wait. I lunged.
We crashed through Jay's door, staggering into the room as he tripped over something on the floor—a damn dildo. He fell back, and I climbed on top of him, fists flying.
Left. Right. Another left. Another right.
My fists became hammers. My anger became fuel. My ex. My job. My sister's debt. The motel. The loneliness. Everything came out of me with each swing.
His face was a bloody mess, but I couldn't stop.
"Stop!" Jay screamed, grabbing my arm, pulling me back.
My chest heaved. I blinked, dazed, sweat pouring off me. I looked down at him. Barely moving. Breathing, but his lips whispered something weak and incomprehensible.
I climbed off, stumbling back. My knuckles throbbed like they'd been set on fire. I flexed them, groaning.
The man scrambled to his feet, grabbed his jacket off the floor, and bolted out the door without a word. I let him go. Didn't even look back.
Jay stared at me, hands still on her belly, her eyes wide and glassy.
"You okay?" she sked, voice hoarse. "We… we need to get you to a hospital."
"Hospital? Yeah. For you," I said, motioning at her stomach. "We need to make sure the baby's okay."
"I'm so sorry…" she choked out. "I'm so, so, so sorry."
"It's fine," I muttered, forcing a shaky smile. "Grew up in Detroit. I don't know how to beat people up—but I do know how to get beat."
That got a tiny laugh from her, even if it was soaked in pain.
She wiped her eyes, still bleeding. "Let's use my motorcycle. C-can you drive?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "Come on. It's close anyway."
She leaned into me, breathing heavy as I helped her walk. My adrenaline still buzzed under my skin… shit. What a day it was.
—
The rest of the week drifted by in a haze of small victories and quiet weariness. I finally paid off my sister's last debt. Jay's baby turned out fine, thank fuck. The scans showed no issues, and the doctors said the little girl was still kicking like a future soccer champ.
Her boyfriend never found out what really happened. Jay told him she fainted near the stairs from a dizzy spell, and I helped her to the hospital. The guy even gave me fifty bucks and a six-pack as a thank-you. Not bad, considering the bill had emptied my bank account like a slot machine gone wrong.
And still—nothing on that damn dating app.
No matches. No pings. No luck. Just me, scrolling through strangers' faces like I was window-shopping for someone to care about me for more than a paycheck and some sad apartment sex.
I sat back on the couch, phone in hand, thumb swiping like it had muscle memory of rejection.
"Jesus…" I muttered, staring at the next girl. Bikini pic, some forced smile, bio full of red flags.
But then—wait. My thumb froze mid-swipe, but it was too late.
'Preggo_Jay_69'
My eyes widened. That swollen belly in the profile pic? unmistakable. That was Jay. Jay was on this fucking app.
"Shit, shit, shit." My mouth went dry.
I tried to unmatch, but—of course. "Premium only."
Of fucking course.
"Fuck!" I hissed, throwing my head back.
I scrambled for my debit card, numbers already halfway typed in when a notification popped up. Oh, shit. That was… not good. Not good at all.
Jay and I matched.
My stomach twisted into a knot of barbed wire. I dropped my phone like it burned me and flopped back onto the couch, face burning.
"What the hell have I done?" I groaned.
Another ding.
I picked up the phone with a trembling hand.
New message from Jay:
"Can you come to the walkway?"
"Shit," I whispered.
I hesitated in front of the door, heartbeat quickening. Was she pissed? Embarrassed? Did she think I was some creep now, like that guy from before?
I exhaled hard, cracked my neck, and turned the doorknob.