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Part 21
The invitation was extended, and a week later, their apartment was filling with the complicated energy of Charles’s world. Ben moved through the living room, a silent host, placing bowls of snacks on surfaces and feeling like a ghost in his own home. Dawn, by contrast, was a live wire of energy, flitting from the door to the kitchen, her friendliness a bright, neutral shield.
Charles arrived first, his presence immediately claiming space. He was followed by his wife Tatiana, her smile tight and her eyes scanning the room like she was assessing a threat. Then came Willow, tall and willowy, looking vaguely bored as she shrugged off her jacket, and finally Raven, her goth aesthetic a stark contrast to the Austin afternoon light streaming through the windows. She hovered near the doorway, as if unsure she was allowed to enter.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” Dawn said, her gesture encompassing the various sofas. The seating arrangement fell into place almost inevitably. Charles took the center of the largest sofa, with Dawn settling easily into the armchair directly across from him, placing herself squarely in his line of sight. Tatiana sat rigidly on the edge of the sofa next to Charles, while Willow draped herself with casual ownership on his other side. Raven chose the smaller loveseat, pulling her knees up to her chest. Ben ended up on the same loveseat, being the closest seat to Dawn’s armchair.
“So this is the apartment,” Charles said, his charismatic smile including everyone and no one at once. “It’s got a good vibe. Open. Honest. Great for entertaining guests.” His gaze lingered on Dawn. “It suits you.”
“We like it,” Dawn replied, her tone even, though Ben noticed the slight flush on her neck. She was intrigued.
The conversation started stiffly, a volley of introductions and what everyone was studying. Dawn leaned forward, her voice warm but steady, “I’m in my final year of Communication Disorders. It’s been challenging, but I love it. I’m also minoring in art history.” Charles’s attention snapped to her, his charismatic smile widening as if she had just revealed something deeply fascinating.
Tatiana made to speak next, but Willow, lounging casually next to Charles with her legs crossed, cut in instead, her voice cool and confident, “I’m studying Law. Second year. It’s a grind, but it’s the family business. And honestly, I love it.” Tatiana, looking at Willow with what felt like daggers from the other side of Charles, tried again, “Journalism. There’s a lot to expose in our society, and I want to do it.” Raven, perched on the edge of the loveseat with her knees drawn up, spoke in a shy whisper. “I’m in Gender Studies,” she said softly, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “It’s… enlightening.”
Charles turned the spotlight on himself effortlessly. “Business,” he declared, leaning back with a self-assured grin. “Entrepreneurship track. I’m all about making things happen.” His gaze lingered on Dawn again, as though his ambition was meant solely for her attention. He started speaking to her, now that he considered the introductions done. “So Dawn…”
Ben, sitting quietly beside Raven, finally spoke up, as if he didn’t notice he was skipped. His voice calm but tinged with a hint of annoyance. “I’m studying Physics. Just finished my master’s thesis.” Charles gave him a polite, dismissive nod, clearly unimpressed, before his focus shifted back to Dawn, as though she were the only one who mattered in the room.
“So Dawn, you’re minoring in art history? I’m a fan of the subject myself. I’ve always found the obsession with ownership and possession in Renaissance portraiture fascinating. The way a husband would commission a painting of his wife, a beautiful object he alone could possess, so that her figure could be admired. Displayed for the enjoyment of others.” He took a sip of his drink. “It’s a primitive form of non-monogamy, don’t you think? Acknowledging desire exists outside the frame while still trying to control the narrative.”
Dawn’s eyebrows raised. He was good. This wasn’t the clumsy, horny flirting of a Sam or the raw passion of an Alexandros. This was a targeted intellectual assault, designed to impress and disarm. “I suppose I never looked at it that way. I was always more interested in the brushstrokes.”
“The technique is the surface,” Charles countered gently. “The psychology is the masterpiece.”
A soft, deliberate sound pulled Ben’s attention away. On the loveseat, Raven had shifted. Willow had left her perch beside Charles and had slid onto the couch next to Raven. She was whispering something, her long blond hair brushing against Raven’s shoulder. Raven kept her eyes downcast, but a faint blush was visible on her cheeks. Willow’s hand, elegant and slim, came to rest on Raven’s skirt-clad thigh, her fingers tracing an idle pattern. It wasn’t overtly sexual, but it was profoundly intimate, a claim staked in the quiet tension of the room. Raven didn’t pull away. She seemed to shrink into the touch, a conflicted statue of desire and unease.
Ben’s eyes flicked to Tatiana. She was watching the interaction on the loveseat, her jaw clenched so tight a muscle twitched. Her dislike was a cold, sharp object in the room. She wasn’t looking at her husband, who was completely engrossed in his conversation with Dawn. She was glaring at Willow and Raven. The negativity was clear.
Next, her gaze reached Ben, and for a moment, her eyes lingered on him with a calculating edge. Her voice cut through the hum of conversation, crisp and commanding. “Ben, could you bring me a drink? And maybe some of those snacks?” She gestured vaguely toward the snacks, which were right there, within arm’s reach for everyone.
It was a deliberate move, a challenge disguised as a request. Tatiana’s tone carried a subtle bite, as if she were testing the boundaries of his patience – or perhaps probing for a reaction from Dawn. Her eyes flicked briefly toward Charles, who was still engrossed in his conversation with Dawn, then back to Ben, her expression unreadable but tinged with something like defiance.
Ben felt the weight of her intent immediately. This wasn’t about the snacks or the drink; it was about dominance, a quiet power play meant to unsettle. He met her gaze calmly, refusing to rise to the bait. “Sure,” he said evenly, standing smoothly from the loveseat. Before turning away, he glanced at Raven and Willow, who were still seated close together, Willow’s hand resting lightly on Raven’s thigh.
“Would either of you like anything while I’m up?” His voice was polite, almost casual, but the offer was deliberate, a subtle counter to Tatiana’s attempt to make him serve her specifically.
Raven shook her head quickly, her cheeks still faintly pink, while Willow smiled lazily and said, “I’m good, thanks.”
Ben nodded and poured a fresh glass of wine for Tatiana and grabbed a small plate, placing some of the snacks on it. He moves around the living room and handed the items to Tatiana with a calm, unruffled demeanor.
“Here you go,” he said with a simple smile, his tone neutral but not cold. Then, without waiting for a response, he retreated to his seat beside Raven, leaving Tatiana to sip her wine in silence. Dawn, still absorbed in her conversation with Charles, remained oblivious to the exchange, while Ben leaned back, his quiet composure intact.
The tension in the room shifted, imperceptibly but unmistakably. Tatiana’s attempt to assert herself had been somewhat disarmed, and Ben’s measured response had subtly reasserted his own control over the situation – all without eliciting so much as a raised eyebrow from anyone. Anyone other than Raven that is, who was looking at him in a way that suggested she was aware of what happened, and approved.
“It must require an incredible amount of security,” Charles was saying, his voice pulling the focus back to the center of the room. “To have the foundation you two have. To have someone safe to come home to, when you’re not… exploring. To be so sure of your bond that you don’t need to even think about it. That you can spend all your attention on the… new prospects. A lot of people try to build the tower without first laying the foundation. It always crumbles.” He said this while looking directly at Dawn, but Ben felt the words were for him. An assertion that if Ben is to be a good foundation, he should move to the background to allow Dawn to focus on the new prospects. On Charles.
“Security is key,” Dawn agreed, her voice softer now. She glanced at Ben, a quick, almost apologetic flicker of her eyes, before turning back to Charles. “It’s the only thing that makes it possible.”
The air grew thick with unspoken challenges and alliances. Ben felt a familiar ache, a hollowed-out feeling of being peripheral to the main event. He was the foundation they spoke of – the solid, invisible ground everyone walked on but never looked at.
Willow’s voice, soft and deliberate, cut through the low hum of conversation. She leaned slightly toward Ben, her lips barely moving as she whispered, “Charles’s talking about you. Giving Dawn space.” Her tone was casual, but her eyes held a flicker of curiosity. “We’ve all heard about her dating around, but not you. Are you looking for another girlfriend?”
Her hand remained on Raven’s thigh, though her focus was now entirely on Ben, her gaze sharp and probing. There was an unspoken challenge in her question, as if she were testing the boundaries of his patience – or perhaps his loyalty.
Ben glanced at Willow, his expression calm but guarded. He didn’t respond immediately, letting the weight of her words hang in the air. The room seemed to shift subtly, the tension thickening as Willow’s whispered words lingered between them.
Tatiana suddenly stood up. “Where is your bathroom?” Ben pointed, and she moved with stiff, angry steps.
The movement broke the spell. Charles finally turned his head, acknowledging his wife’s departure with a slight frown before his winning smile returned. Willow moved back, disappointed she wouldn’t be getting a response.
“This was a great idea. Really. It’s so refreshing. We should do this again next week!” Charles noted, his eyes travel between everyone in the room. “But for tonight, I think you should disperse. I’m sure you all are tired of waiting around while Dawn and I talk about art.”
Dawn’s breath caught almost imperceptibly. She looked at Ben, her expression unreadable, a silent question hanging in the air between them. Although it could be interpreted innocently, it was clear Charles was trying to dismiss Ben and the others.
Ben’s heart hammered against his ribs. He could feel the gaze of everyone in the room – Charles’s challenging smirk, Willow’s curious glance from the loveseat, Raven’s shy, worried eyes from under her dark bangs. He looked at Dawn, at the faint, eager light in her eyes, and he knew what his answer had to be. The foundation had to hold.
His voice was quiet, a low surrender that only she could truly hear. “Whatever you want, Dawn.”
Part 22
The warm, lingering buzz of the evening evaporated in an instant. Tatiana left in a huff almost immediately. Willow left a few minutes later, after some final pleasantries, the door clicking shut behind her. Their departure left a sudden, heavy silence in its wake. Raven shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting toward the exit as if calculating the distance. Charles didn’t seem to notice her unease, or anyone’s for that matter. His focus was a laser, fixed entirely on Dawn.
He took a step closer, his voice dropping into an intimate, conspiratorial register. “That was a stimulating conversation. I feel we barely scratched the surface of what we could… discuss.” His eyes flicked toward the closed door of the guest room, then back to her. “Perhaps we should continue in private? So as not to bore anyone else.”
Dawn’s head tilted, a small, curious smile playing on her lips. She didn’t look at Ben. “You want to go in there just to talk? About art? You can understand if I’m a bit skeptical, no?”
Charles murmured, his voice smooth as silk, a practiced ease in every word. His gaze lingered on her, heavy with unspoken meaning. “Art is always more interesting when you can truly immerse yourself in it, don’t you think? Like those Rodin sculptures – raw, unfiltered emotion – or Klimt’s The Kiss. Sometimes, to fully appreciate the depth of a piece, you need to… engage with it intimately. Away from prying eyes. Perhaps we could explore that further, just the two of us, away from distractions.”
He gestured subtly toward the guest room, his smile offering just enough plausible deniability to suggest he might indeed be talking about art. But the way his eyes traced her, the slight edge to his tone, made it clear that his thoughts were anything but academic.
A tense silence stretched. Ben could feel Raven holding her breath beside him. He watched Dawn, waiting for the familiar twist in his gut, the sharp sting of jealousy. But it was muted tonight, buried under a strange, heavy exhaustion. He saw the calculation in her eyes, the brief flicker of cynical amusement she got when presented with a new puzzle.
“Alright,” she said, her voice light and agreeable. “A quick discussion in private.”
Charles’s smile was triumphant. He didn’t even glance at Raven, still hovering by the door like a forgotten shadow. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we won’t be too long,” he said to the room at large, his hand finding the small of Dawn’s back to guide her. The guest room door opened, they slipped inside, and it closed with a soft, definitive click.
Ben stood rooted to the spot, staring at the grainy wood of the door. Raven let out a long, shaky breath she seemed to have been holding for an hour. “Do you need anything?” Ben asked, a bit perplexed as to why she stayed behind. She just shook her head. “No. It’s just… He’s my ride. Tatiana’s as well for that matter, but I guess she’s taking an Uber. Don’t mind me, I’ll just wait here.” She sounded resigned, as if stating a simple, unpleasant fact of nature. Gravity exists. Charles is callous.
They sat in awkward silence for a minute, listening to the absolute quiet from behind the guest room door.
Raven curled up into the far corner of the loveseat, tucking her fishnet-covered legs beneath her, making sure to cover them with her skirt. Ben sat on the opposite end, leaving a wide berth between them. The polite distance felt absurd, given the circumstances.
The silence between them stretched, punctuated only by the faint sounds of the city beyond the apartment walls. Raven plucked at the thread on her tights, her eyes darting toward the guest room door and then back to her lap. Ben cleared his throat, desperate to fill the heavy air with something – anything – other than their thoughts.
“So,” he began, his voice tentative, “what are you studying? Gender studies?” It was a safe question, he thought, though it felt absurdly mundane given the circumstances.
Raven blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah,” she said, pulling the thread free and letting it dangle. “It’s… uh, enlightening.”
Ben nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure what it entailed. “That sounds… important,” he ventured lamely. “What do you… do in that? Like, research or something?”
She shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, kinda? A lot of reading, analyzing societal structures, power dynamics, that kind of thing.” She paused, then added, “It’s basically figuring out the underlying sources of oppression and how to identify them.”
Ben chuckled nervously. “Sounds complicated.”
“It is. But more than that, it’s infuriating. What society does. It makes me angry,” she admitted, leaning back slightly. “What about you? What’s your deal? Physics, was it?”
“Yes, physics,” he said, immediately wishing he could take it back. It wasn’t exactly a conversation starter.
Raven raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. “Oh, wow. Like… rockets and stuff?”
“Not really,” he said, shaking his head. “More like… particles and forces. Quantum mechanics sometimes. It’s… a lot of math.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I never really got math.” Ben nodded.
They shared a moment of quiet amusement, the tension between them easing slightly. Raven tilted her head, studying him. “So, what’s the point of all that? Like, what’s the endgame with quantum… whatever?”
Ben hesitated, trying to distill years of study into something digestible. “I guess… it’s about understanding how the universe works? The rules behind everything. Like, why things move the way they do, or why particles behave differently when you’re not looking at them.”
They lapsed into silence again, Raven glancing at the closed guestroom door.
The awkwardness crept back in, but it was softer now, almost companionable. Raven leaned her head against the back of the loveseat, staring at the ceiling. And for a moment, just a moment, the tension in the room felt manageable.
A faint sound finally came from the other room. Not a moan or a cry, but the distinct, rhythmic creak of bed springs. Slow, at first, then building into a steady, insistent tempo. Ben’s cheeks reddened slightly. They’re in our guest bed. The imagery was vivid, unwanted.
Raven flinched at the first of Charles’s grunts, her shoulders hiking up toward her ears. She looked… pained. “He’s not exactly quiet, is he?”
“She is, though, when she wants to be,” Ben murmured, more to himself than to her. Although they could hear Charles, Dawn was silent. He knew it meant she was embarrassed of what she was doing. Trying to hide her shame from him. He knew from experience that when she wanted him to be aware of her deeds, she could be very vocal.
Raven suddenly snorted, a surprisingly sharp, bitter sound. “Yeah. This is a mess. Now Tatiana will be pissed at her for weeks.”
That broke Ben’s trance. He finally turned to look at Raven, her face half-hidden by a curtain of black hair. “Tatiana? Why? Charles’s the one who…” He gestured vaguely toward the door, the creaking now unmistakable and relentless.
Raven looked at him as if he’d just asked why the sky was blue. “Because it’s easier. It’s always the other woman’s fault. She’s ‘disrespectful’ for being with him. She ‘seduced’ him. Charles? He just… is. You can’t get mad at the sun for being hot, you just blame the person who got sunburned.” She gave a helpless little shrug. “It’s stupid. But that’s how it works.”
Ben fell silent, turning her words over. He thought of Tatiana’s tense posture, her sharp exit. He thought of Charles’s utter indifference to it. Raven’s explanation, born of bitter experience, made a twisted kind of sense. The unfairness of it was painful.
Ben hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering toward the guest room door where the rhythmic creaking had now settled into a steady, unrelenting cadence. He turned back to Raven, his voice low but curious. “So, you and Charles… Do you… You know… Have something too? Why are you still with him?”
Raven let out a short, humorless laugh, her fingers nervously twisting a loose thread from her tights. “Yeah, we do. We’re dating, like he is with Willow as well. And yes, it’s a sexual relationship.” She shrugged, as if it were the most mundane admission in the world, but there was a flicker of something darker in her eyes – uncertainty, maybe even shame. “I don’t know why I’m still with him, honestly. It just… happens. I mean, he’s charming, I guess, and sometimes it feels like I don’t have much of a choice. Or maybe I just stopped caring enough to make one.”
Ben frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of it. “And Tatiana? Does she… resent you too?”
Raven sighed, leaning back against the couch and staring at the ceiling. “Theoretically, Tatiana’s okay with the whole poly thing. In theory, we’re all supposed to be cool with it – sharing him, I mean. But in practice…” She paused, her voice trailing off as if she were weighing her words carefully. “In practice, it’s messy. We all end up doing something wrong, hurting each other in ways we don’t even mean to. Like, Tatiana and I will accidentally double-book Charles, or one of us will push too hard on a boundary we didn’t realize existed. It’s like… we’re all trying to make it work, but we’re not considerate enough. I don’t know. We just keep screwing it up.”
Ben nodded slowly, though he wasn’t sure he fully understood. The dynamic felt tangled, like a knot that only tightened the more you tried to unravel it. He glanced at the door again, the muffled sounds of the bed springs from the other side still accompanied by faint groans from Charles.
“So, it’s not just about who’s with him,” Ben said quietly, more to himself than to Raven. “It’s about… everything else.”
“Pretty much,” Raven replied, her tone resigned. “It’s always the little things that end up being the big things. And then suddenly, you’re sitting here, listening to your… whatever he is… fuck someone else in the next room, and you wonder how the hell you got here.” She let out another bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. “But hey, that’s love, right? Or whatever this is supposed to be.”
They didn’t speak again for a long time. The only sounds were the rhythmic protest of the bed and the low hum of the refrigerator. Strangely, Ben found the silence with Raven wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. It was a shared vigil, a mutual understanding of orbiting a sun that burned too brightly and too carelessly. He found himself noticing the small, silvery rings in her ears, the delicate chain around her neck, the way she nervously chewed on the edges of her long black hair.
After what felt like an eternity, the creaking stopped. A few minutes later, the guest room door opened.
Charles emerged, looking impeccably put together, barely a hair out of place. He smoothed down his shirt and found Raven with his eyes as if he’d known exactly where she was the whole time. “Raven. Come on. Time to go.”
He didn’t look into the room he’d just left. He didn’t say goodbye to Ben. His mission was accomplished, his curiosity satisfied. Raven uncurled herself from the couch with a quiet sigh, not looking at Ben as she shuffled toward the door.
“See you,” she mumbled to the floor as she passed him.
“Yeah,” Ben said, and was surprised to find he genuinely meant it. “See you, Raven.”
Charles held the apartment door open for her and they were gone, the lock clicking shut a second time.
Ben was alone.
The apartment was preternaturally quiet. The guest room door remained ajar, a sliver of darkness visible. Dawn hadn’t emerged. She hadn’t called out. There was no sound from within.
He sat on the couch, in the spot Raven had just vacated, the cushion still faintly warm. He stared at the dark slash of the doorway, waiting, the silence pressing in on him from all sides.