But he didn’t touch me.
Not really.
Not the way my body kept begging for.
I didn’t know if I could do that all night. Lay next to him and not be touched by him. Feel him breathe beside me. Feel the mattress dip when he shifts. Smell his cologne and his soap and the faint trace of gelato and not lose my mind.
He wanted to stay with me until morning at least.
He said it like it was decided. Like it was a fact. Like he made the call, and I was to go along with it.
I did.
It felt weird to offer him Dad’s bed. Like that would be crossing a line.
And he wouldn’t fit on the couch. Not without waking up folded in half, all long legs and hard angles.
So the only choice left was my bed.
The loop spins again, and I stare at my reflection until I want to throw something at it.
I let out a frustrated sigh, sharp and annoyed, and it fogs the mirror for a second.
Enough.
If I keep standing here, I’m going to think myself into a panic or a bad decision, and I don’t have the energy for either.
I grab the floss off the counter.
It doesn’t hurt to be minty fresh.
For no particular reason at all.
The floss snaps between my fingers. I start working it between my teeth with a little more force than necessary, like I can scrape my brain clean along with my gums. Like I can scrape off the images I don’t want to be having right now.
Nico’s mouth.
Nico’s hands.
Nico’s voice when he’s being gentle.
Nico’s voice when he’s not.
Nico moving in and out of me. Rough, hard, fast. Then slow. Owning me completely while he whispers dirty words in my ears and makes me want things I didn’t even know were options.
I finish flossing and spit, then brush my teeth. I rinse. I swish mouthwash. The burn is sharp and clean and it gives me something physical to focus on besides the heat pooling low in my stomach.
I stare at the water flosser on the counter.
I consider it.
Then I dismiss it immediately.
Overkill.
I rinse my mouth one last time, pat my lips dry, and glance at myself again.
Still puffy.
