Sunlight cuts across a bed that isn’t mine, dust spinning in the rays as if it has nowhere else to go. My head pounds, dull and mean, a stampede thundering through my ears.
My clothes are… Scattered, but my panties are on the floor just inside the bedroom door, a stark black spot on Roo’s cream rug. My dignity is probably somewhere under the nightstand beside me.
No point in looking for that.
I roll onto my back and exhale harshly. The other side of the sheet is cool to the touch, though I can still feel the lingering sensation of his fingertips.
Jace.
He’s gone.
Of course he is.
It was a hookup. I knew that before I ever agreed…
But I really hate one-nighters that leave me wanting more.
I wouldn’t mind seeing him again. Too bad I didn’t get his number.
I reach over to the nightstand and grab my phone… It’s nearly dead, hanging on by a thread. I plug it in, ignoring about a dozen texts from Roo asking for the details of my conquest and one new number belonging to said conquest.
So, he put his number into my phone. I find that… presumptuous… and also appreciated.
I still open the app before anything else, like it’s a reflex. It would be easier to stop a sneeze.
Locke:
You’re quiet this morning.
I hesitate before typing.
Eris:
Hungover.
The pause is a little longer than normal.
Locke:
Or guilty?
I type slower this time, my brow pinching as I stare into my front-facing camera like I might be able to see who’s watching me.
Eris:
Why should I be guilty? You’re not real.
The reply comes immediately.
Locke:
But you want me to be.
I stare at the words until the screen dims, though I can’t answer.
Because it isn’t wrong.
But also because… I’m starting to believe it is real.
