I don’t turn around. Instead, I say, “This didn’t happen.”
I hear more rustling behind me. I turn slowly and see he’s sitting up, confusion marring his face.
“What?” he asks me, clearing his throat.
I cross my arms tight across my stomach, like I’m holding myself together. “Last night. It was the alcohol, the history, loneliness or the big win. But it wasn’t real.”
His eyes search mine, like they are begging me for a different explanation. “It felt real.”
I shake my head. “It can’t be. You’re the owner. I’m the keeper. We have a season to finish.” He starts to object and I know he’s going to bring up the fraternization clause that he lifted a few months ago. “I’m not losing myself again.”
August shakes his head and rises. He’s bare-chested and barefoot; at some point last night he must have put his briefs on. I can see the bulge of morning wood through them, though. “You think pretending it didn’t happen will make it easier?”
“No,” I say, attempting to swallow the lump that is forming. “But it’ll make it survivable.”
I turn and open the door, pausing for a moment. I can feel his eyes boring into my back. “Don’t follow me. Don’t text. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
I hear him say my name, but I keep moving. If he says anything else, I don’t hear it. I hurry to the front door, finding my bag on the floor. I grab it and dart for the elevator, praying that it comes quickly and that August doesn’t rush out here.
He doesn’t. I can’t decide if I’m glad that he hasn’t come out here to plead his case, or if it kills me that he’s going to let me go that easily. The elevator arrives and I get to leave his apartment, leaving behind the echo of my heartbeat and the scent of regret all over his sheets.
I avoid the eyes of the doorman when the elevator hits the ground floor. He doesn’t speak to me, either because this is what usually happens when one of August’s conquests leaves or he’s just really good at being discreet. Outside in the morning sun, which is already warm, I let the shame wash over me. I’m just like all the others that he’s brought home from the bar.
“How could I be so stupid?” I ask myself.
I pull my phone out and notice that it’s full of texts from Mac, Cassie, and Amelia. I guess they wondered what became of me last night. I pray that they do not connect the dots and realize that I went home with August.
I swallow and begin to panic. My palms start to sweat, while my head moves on a swivel, terrified that someone will spot me. Dex lives on the ground floor of August’s building. Amelia could be sleeping at his place. It’s after nine in the morning, and one of them might be up, even though today is a day off for us.
Fuck.
I begin walking swiftly down the street and towards a coffee shop. I need some caffeine and maybe something sweet to drown my shame in.I can’t believe that I went home with him.I chide myself in my head on my way to the coffee shop and the entire time in line.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry but would you like to order something?” the barista asks me.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were speaking to me.” I catch her rolling her eyes and I glance down at my feet before meeting her eyes again. “I’d like a caramel protein latte, please.” I look over at the case, I see all of the delicious-looking cupcakes, pastries, cinnamon rolls and muffins. My stomach growls at the sight of them. “Yeah, I think I need one of those cinnamon rolls, please.”
She nods and rings me up. “That’ll be fifteen forty-two.” I notice how she still looks a wee bit annoyed with me for not paying better attention in the line. For being too in my head. I make sure that I give her a tip for the trouble that I was to her.
I take a seat in the coffee shop and wait for them to call my number. I look around and decide I like this place. I’ve only been here a few times, but once I knew that this was near August’s building, I stayed away. Like I did with so many other places thatI might enjoy. Running into him in public when I wasn’t ready with my shields up was not an option.
This place reminds me of the place near the team housing, with the seashells and beach-themed decor. It smells of strong coffee beans and sugar. Makes my mouth water thinking of the cinnamon roll that I have coming my way. I am eager for my number to be called because I need that little bit of sugar and caffeine to hit my system so that I can make sense of last night.
Finally! The barista calls out my number and I get up, heading over quickly to retrieve the coffee that I so desperately need and that little bit of sweet that I need to help with the self-loathing that I feel.
Once back at the table, I sit there and sulk.
I pluck off little bits of cinnamon roll and take sips of the caramel latte, all the while hating myself for ending up in August’s bed. I take a bite and see the way he looked at me from between my legs. It was hot and it’s enough to make me clench my thighs together even now.
My heads drops and I stare at the table. Why did I bother to put up such a front for the team that I hated him if I was just going to sleep with him? Was it easier to pretend that I hated him instead of telling people that seeing him drove a knife in my chest? Or that whenever I watched him dance with another woman or leave with one, that tore the hole in my heart open even further? It feels like there is nothing left. My heart isn’t in pieces, it’s shredded. And last night I let the man who has wrecked my body and my heart repeatedly back inside both.
I place the fork down. The cinnamon roll is almost mocking me. It’s delicious. It’s sweet and decadent. Just like August. Just like spending the night with him last night. It was delicious, warm and wonderful. Everything that my world has been missing for so long. I close my eyes, thinking of how much Iwant to hate myself for spending the night with him. How much I should.
But I don’t.
I simply want more.
I hear the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. The chair sounds like it’s scooting toward the table where I’m sitting. Three taps on the table confirm that I’m not alone. I wonder for a second if it’s August because of how close I am to his apartment.
