Sexy as Sin

I almost give in. I almost recklessly go to him. Even with every logical thought that’s guarding my heart, part of me wants to feel his lips on mine again more than the rest of me wants to confess my sins and tell him what happened.

But in the end, I pull the door closed.

The act pulls on strings I’d rather stay still. I only hold it together then and there to tell Lydia she can go home if she wants. She only hesitates a moment.

My hands tingle with anticipation as I climb the stairs, my heart thumping with every step.

Before going to my room, I check on Cill’s but the door is closed and I don’t have it in me to open it.

My own bed feels empty in a way it never has before.

My body craves to be wrapped around Cill, but my fingers tangle in my hair instead. There’s so much to tell him and each line runs wild in my mind. There’s so much I already should have told him.

Sleep evades me. The thought of him down the hall, alone under the covers, is too much. It keeps me awake.

I toss and turn, the covers uncomfortably tight and all wrong. Every time I glance at the clock, it’s only been ten minutes and yet hours tick by. And then another. All the while I stare at my bedroom door.

Should I go to him? I don’t even know if Cill would want that. Even if he did right now, he may not after we talk.

Time changes everything.

Tears form at the corners of my eyes and I brush them away, struggling to hold on to my sanity. It’s difficult not to dwell on the negatives, the thoughts that keep me wide awake. Instead, I think about what used to be. How at one point, I thought all we had left was our happily ever after.

With the memories playing back like a movie, sleep comes and goes in short spurts.

Dreams tempt me and they show me how it once was when we first got together.

* * *

Morning comes all too soon with a stubborn alarm and tired, reddened eyes.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I smack the clock, hating that I didn’t turn it off last night. Six a.m. is far too early and puts me at only three hours of restless sleep at most.

Still, I don’t bother to stay under the sheets.

As soon as I remember—Cill’s here—I’m out of the bed, my bare feet on the cold wooden floor. It’s not far to his room, but when I get there the door is wide open. I know what that means before I step through the door.

My palms are clammy as I steady my breathing.

He’s not there.

With a quick check in the bathroom only to find nothing, I head downstairs. I rush down, taking the stairs two at a time. The house is quiet around me. When I don’t see him, I call out his name and it echoes in the empty house.

He’s not here either. I circle the living room to look for signs of him. There are none. He didn’t sit on the couch, or pull the throw blanket over his legs.

Swallowing thickly, I do everything I can to shake off the uncertainty.

I don’t know why I care so much. He spent one night in my house, and it’s not like there would be plenty of evidence that he was here. As the heat of panic creeps up my arms, I just need some proof. Some little thing to say Cill’s really back home and last night wasn’t a dream. He was here with me.

As I head to the living room to grab my phone that’s charging, ready to text Lydia, I see the note.

A slim piece of paper from the notepad I use to make grocery lists. He didn’t leave me with nothing after all.

It’s from Cill.

* * *

I have to take care of a few things.

Like getting a phone …

I’ll call you and I’ll see you tonight.

If you need anything, or you need me, call Reed.

Six years ago

* * *

A younger version of Cill, only seventeen years old, leaned over the pool table. Shot after shot. He was a shark even then. I remember thinking he probably learned how to play from his dad, but I didn’t care about that. All I cared about was how hot he looked in the dim lights of the rec hall. He had a tight black T-shirt that showed off his muscular arms. He put a ball into one of the pockets, easy as can be, and looked up at me. A smirk immediately met his lips. He didn’t disguise how much he wanted me and I didn’t attempt to hide anything either. He let his eyes linger on my face for a long time, until I blushed.