Lil Annie - Part 4

After ten minutes I find myself idly flicking through an old copy of Heat magazine.

After twenty the wine bottle is almost entirely empty. I squint down at the magazine. The text is blurry. Something about a Lindsey Lohan.

Potent. Annie told me so.

After forty minutes she’s done and she starts talking to me again and I’m already slumped across the sofa. She berates me for drinking all the wine and I smile up at her but have trouble organising words into a coherent sentence.

She walks a circle around the room, turning on a couple of lamps, extinguishing the candles. Then she goes and gets another bottle, and refills her glass.

She doesn’t share it. Quite right.

She sits next to me on the sofa, knees tucked up in front of her. She’s bright, like a supernova burns inside her, a golden shimmer surrounds her, emanates from her, and her eyes sparkle.

She’s often like this afterwards.

We talk rubbish to each other for a while. We laugh at each other’s jokes. She holds my hand, gives it a squeeze. Like old friends. Like past lovers.

Just talking.

And then she asks me about her.

I ask her to drop it.

She does, but the atmosphere has changed. The glimmer has gone.

I apologise and she nods. Then frowns and shakes her head. “No,” she says. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve asked. I’m sorry. I just… If there’s anything I can do to help… please… let me know.”

I tell her I will. And have to assure her twice.

“Do you want to have sex?” she asks, quite matter-of-factly.

I laugh. Honestly, I forget how open Annie is. Polyamory does not even begin to cover it. She often shares herself physically with those she loves, simply as an extension of that love. It was something I couldn’t deal with when we met… when we grew to be friends… when we grew to be more… I was too monogamous to handle it. I wanted it all or I wanted nothing. I blame society.

The sex was amazing though.

“Thank you,” I tell her. “But it really wouldn’t help.” An expression that could almost be mistaken for disappointment flickers across her face and is gone.

I ask about Laurel and she becomes bright again.

“I love her so much,” she tells me, “that sometimes I feel like my heart could explode.”

She tells me every little detail. She's never been happier than since Laurel entered her life and she gets up and whirls around the room, her enthusiasm spinning her like a top.

I don't mind. It makes me smile to watch her, beautiful little Annie, chattering away, her beaming smile lighting up the room like the sunrise come early.

She even shares some more of her wine with me.