I need to focus on today, and tomorrow. I know what I need to do.
I walk back into Stacy's room, quietly grabbing my things. I find my jeans crumpled in the corner of the room, and pick them up, slipping into them one leg at a time. Then I hunt around the room for my other clothes.
Fuck, they could be anywhere at this point. The room is dark and making the task difficult. I'm groping in the dark until I realize that I should grab my cell phone and press the flashlight feature, sweeping the beam of light across the floor.
Finally, I find my shirt, shoes, and wallet. I gather all of my things.
And just as easily as I came into Stacy's life, I walk to her front door and leave it. As I step through the threshold of her door, I feel my body hesitate. It's almost imperceptible, but it's there. I resist the urge to look back at her body silhouetted between the moonlight and her soft, white sheets.
No, if I do that, I may never leave.
I have to get out of here—for her sake, and mine.
And just like that, I'm gone.
8
Stacy
"You know what I love?" Erica asks.
Kim and I stare at her for a moment, and we both shrug.
"I love how men are so easily amused. I mean, all they need are a pair of boobs in front of their face and their cocks are nearly ready to jump out of their pants."
"I don't know about that," I say, shaking my head and downing another large gulp of my margarita.
"What don't you know?" Erica asks. She leans down and carefully licks some of the salt from the rim of her margarita glass. "I'm telling you, it's true—at least with younger guys. I mean, I guess if a guy's like 80 years old or something, that may not be so true."
"Well, tell that to the Navy SEAL I met yesterday,” I say, and both girls can detect an upset tone in my voice.
“What?” Kim asks. "What SEAL? Was there a man in your life?”
"The keyword there is 'was'," I say. "I thought things were great. He was like a hero straight from a big budget blockbuster movie—the ones full of high-speed car chases and explosives and maybe even monsters the size of city buildings. He rescued me in the morning and there was an undeniable chemistry."
"And…" Kim says, "then what happened? I mean, it sounds like a fairy tale."
"Well, we had amazing sex," I reply. "Like really mind blowing, life-changing type of sex, and then he just sort of … disappeared."
"What do you mean disappeared?" Erica asks.
"Like a Houdini act or something. When I woke up, he was literally just gone," I say. "He didn't even bother saying goodbye; he didn’t leave a note, or a text, or anything."
"Who does that?" Kim shrieks, and now both of them are looking at me wide-eyed.
"Am I really that bad in bed?" I ask both of them. I feel like crying. Tears are threatening to spill over my eyelids.
"Oh, girl—no way!" Erica says, leaning in and rubbing my arm tenderly.
"Yeah, that can't be it," Kim agrees. "Oh, maybe he got called away on a secret mission. That happens you know … they're called 'quiet professionals' for a reason."
"I doubt it," I say, shrugging off the suggestion. "You're just trying to make me feel better. I really don't think Sanders was secretly called away to carry out a mission in a war-torn country."
"You never know," Kim says, standing by her idea. "I'm just saying."
"Kim's right," Erica says. "Aren't SEALs always sworn to secrecy? They're always off doing all kinds of crazy stuff."
Sanders did seem to enjoy himself yesterday—we both did. I know I'm not imagining that. So, why did he leave so suddenly without bothering to tell me why? It just doesn't add up. Maybe he was called away on a mission, but if that was true, he could've at least said something … even hinted at it. But he never did, and something tells me that's not the real reason why he left.