Goddess Ch. 18

(Author's Note: This is the last non-erotic chapter of Goddess. Thank you for your patience and I apologize in advance for the feels.)

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Tom came to late next morning. His head was pounding like a drum, his stomach felt like it was going to explode, and every part of him otherwise felt like hell.

"A hangover" he thought "Shit, I haven't had one of these since high school."

"Mornin' jackass." came Cliff's voice like roaring thunder. Tom put his hands over his ears in agony.

"Cliff, could you not yell, please?" Tom asked quietly.

"I'm not yellin', you're hungover." came Cliff's voice again, baring down on Tom's skull like a jackhammer. Tom groaned in agony.

"All this off a few screwdrivers. Must be getting sick or something." he thought. Tom finally opened his eyes, somehow processing the lights in Cliff's room. Cliff had a smaller dorm, since he had no roommate. The walls were barren, save for a Palestinian flag and a poster for his party. The amount of furniture was minimal, a trait Cliff had had as long as Tom had known him. One desk, one bed (under which was his gun case, cloaked in a blanket), a bookcase, a TV that sat on an ottoman, and a rug where Tom had spent the night.

Tom slowly made his way to his feet, resting his weight against a wall.

"What fucking time is it?" Tom groaned.

"11:42 in the A.M.," said Cliff "C'mon, let's get you back to your room. No offense, but I don't want you puking up last night's drinks in here."

Cliff picked Tom up and helped walk him to his dorm. Tom tried not to throw up on the way as the little sounds of chatter and the humming of the florescent hall lights attacked his head like vultures. Cliff lightly knocked on the door to Tom's dorm and was greeted by Casey, who helped their roommate in and on to the couch.

"Ah. Thanks Casey. I should be able to recover from this just fine long as I get some re-". Just then, a series of furious knocks came at the door. Casey opened it to see Sydney, who looked furious as hell.

"Oh hey Sydney what's u-"

"Is your jackass roommate in there?"

"Oh yeah he's right on the cou-"

Sydney pushed Casey aside and stormed in, then stood over Tom, a look of near violent indignation on her face.

"Morning ba-"

"Don't you pull that crap with me! Not after last night!"

"I'm sorry?"

"You should be!"

"...OK, babe, I'm confused, and hungover. Did I do something last night?"

"Oh that's fucking rich, apparently you've got a selective memory now. Well here, let me fucking jog it for you!"

Sydney pulled out her cell phone and opened a text conversation between her and Tom from last night. All over it were pictures of him and Trish, the scantily clad intern from last night. His hands were all over her, there were even some pictures of them kissing. Tom went white in the face, a thousand questions buzzing through his mind.

"Sydney...I don't know what to say." he said.

"And somehow that says it all" she said, storming off. "Enjoy the single life, asshole!". She slammed the door on her way out.

"Wow. You alright?" asked Casey.

"I don't know what hurts more. The hangover or the fact that I lost my girlfriend over some barely legal tail. Actually, hang on." He grabbed the small trash can near the couch and puked up last night's drinks. "[Cough cough]... no... no, the breakup hurts harder. Fuck my life."

Tom kept coughing, and another knock came at the door. Casey answered, and this time it was Alan, who came into the room hurriedly.

"Hey there Tom, what's wrong? Last night hit you hard?" he asked.

"[Cough] Alan... did I do anything last night? Something with that intern?" Tom asked. "Last night's a giant blur to me."

Alan tugged nervously at the collar of his shirt. "Tom, buddy... I don't know how to break this to you. I mean, I tried to stop you, but you were insistent. Guess a southern accent's not the only thing you get when you're drunk. I kept telling you Sydney wouldn't appreciate it, but you said "No, no I need this!", and next thing I knew you were gone with Trish for the next twenty, thirty minutes."

Tom threw up again. Alan sighed.

"I'll let you rest. Lemme know if you need anything."

Alan left the dorm, and Casey slowly backed into their room, not entirely wanting to get near an emotionally wounded man like this.

Tom spent the next couple hours in the worst agony he'd felt since his mother's passing. He was intermittently throwing up the alcohol from last night, he'd cheated on the closest thing to a goddess he was willing to believe existed, and worse yet he felt like some kind of creepy teacher from a porno because it was with a girl barely old enough to do so. He shook like a leaf, crying the entire time.

The feeling wasn't all that different for Sydney. After she'd stormed off, she just barely made it to the house before breaking down into tears. He'd spoken words of devotion and intimacy to her. Not just in bed, but in personal conversations. He'd regaled her with songs, he'd cried with her, laughed with her, opened himself up as she opened herself up. That ultimately made this betrayal sting in a way that could not be paralleled.

Questions upon questions ran through both their minds: Did he not love me? Did I need to be younger? What made me do that last night? Did I not love her? Oh God, did I love her? How drunk was I last night? What happened? Had things gotten stale? Should I have been a better dom? Was it all a lie? Was I ever in love? Did I mean it when I said it? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? WHy? WHy? WHy? WHy? WHy? WHy? WHy? WHy? WHy? WHy? WHy? WHy? wHY? wHY? WHY? wHY? wHY? wHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY SWEET MOTHER OF GOD WHY?

And miles away, for the first time in a long time outside ecstasy, they both screamed.