4
I’m not sure what time it is when I wake up the next morning. A new storm had moved in overnight and the clouds block the sun, but it’s getting lighter. I look at my phone sitting on the nightstand. It’s 7 A.M.
My sleepy mind is instantly awake and I lurch into action. I’m going to be late for work. I still have to get a gift for my boss and take a shower.
Heath stirs. I’ve woken him with my frantic movements. “Hey, where are you going?” he asks, his voice slurred with sleep, expression groggy. His hair is messy, flat on one side where he’d slept on it. It’s adorable.
“I have to go to work,” I say, frantically scurrying to pick up all my discarded clothing items.
“No time for breakfast?” he asks.
I don’t recall ever having breakfast with my other one-night-stands, but I would with him. If I could. Unfortunately, there’s no time for that.
“No, I’m sorry.”
I can only imagine what this looks like from his point of view. It’s as if I can’t get away fast enough. But there’s simply no time to think about his feelings right now—though a guy like him probably isn’t too worried about it. Maybe he’s even relieved. Goodbyes with one night stands are awkward enough without someone lingering behind when all you want to do is get on with your day.
That’s not how I feel with Heath, though. Oddly enough, I feel comfortable around him. He has a way of putting me at ease. I would love to see him again, have a repeat of last night. Of course, I’m not going to ask. If he rejects me, everything we did will be tainted and I want to be able to look back on this memory with fondness.
“Uh, thanks for last night,” I say, a bit self-consciously. What do you say to someone after a night like that?
I finish pulling on my boots and start to leave. I get to the door, my hand reaching for the handle when he says, “What, no kiss goodbye?” He sounds offended, which I wasn’t expecting. Normally guys just give a wave and roll over and go back to sleep.
“Oh, sorry.” I go back to the bed. My layers of clothes make swishing sounds in the silent room.
Leaning over the bed, I give him a quick peck on the lips. I know if I stay too long, a kiss might just well end up with me back in the bed. As much as I want to, I can’t do that. I have to go.
* * *
Each step I take as I leave the hotel and head out toward the street is agony. It feels like I just ran a marathon and had been beaten with wooden dowels along the way. I think I used muscles last night that I didn’t know I had. I smile to myself. Now this is what sex should feel like after. I would take this kind of rigorous workout over a day at the gym anytime.
I’m thinking about my night with Heath as I finally hail a cab and journey across town to the only clothing store that’s open this early in the morning. Surprisingly, when I think about everything that happened, I’m not actually thinking about the sex—which was AMAZING. Instead, I’m thinking about that smile of his that veers off to the side just the slightest. It makes him look like he’s up to something even when he’s not. And the sound of his laugh, a deep sound he makes with his belly. It was the most genuine sound I’d heard in a long time. Of course I think about those eyes too. Not just their stunning color and the way they stand out against his tan skin. It’s the way he looks at me. Like I’m the only girl in the world when I’m with him. It’s like no one else matters. It’s just the two of us and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. I know that’s not true, but when I’m with him, I can’t help but feel that way.
I’m swooning all over again by the time I get back to my apartment. How can I already miss someone I’ve just met and don’t even really know? He’s probably some supreme narcissist in his daily life and I’m lucky to have dodged a bullet in knowing him. I have to keep telling myself that to avoid this annoying ache in my chest. I am not that girl who gets attached to one night stands. I refuse to be her.
Once I’ve had my shower and wrap the gift for my boss, I head to work for a grueling eight hours. I’m putting the box in my locker when Stephanie walks in.
“You’ve been MIA lately,” she says, leaning against the locker beside me. I can feel her studying me while I try hard to get rid of the lingering smile stuck to my face.
“I’ve had a lot going on,” I say.
“Where were you last night? I stopped by your apartment to find out what happened with all that O-Maker business since you stopped answering my texts.”
Guilt sits heavy on my shoulders. Normally I tell Stephanie everything, but it didn’t even cross my mind to check my text messages or get ahold of her to tell her what happened. Heath had taken up all the space in my head.
When I turn toward her she frowns. “Why do you look like that?”
I’m trying so hard not to smile. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to hold in the sun.”
My smile breaks open, stretching my cheeks, and exposing my teeth.
“Oh my god,” she says. “You met him, didn’t you?”
“Not on purpose,” I admit.
Her eyes hatch open. “Holy. Shit. Tell me everything.”
Our cubicles are next to each other, the partition wall between us low enough so we can see each other. My cubicle is neat and tidy, while Stephanie’s side looks like a rainbow troll exploded with neon sticky notes stuck to everything and all the pens with fuzz balls and dangly bits on the lids.
I tell her about the coffee shop and the barista writing No-O on my coffee cup and finding out there’s a hashtag about it with my photo attached and everything. Then I tell her about the incident on the train and how Heath saved me. Our time in the dressing room and getting caught by the girl who worked there. And then the kiss that followed that felt so much more than just a kiss. Finally, I tell her about getting a room and the fancy hotel and all the magic that happened after, sparing no detail. By the time I’m done Stephanie’s mouth is hanging open and a bead of sweat rolls down the side of her temple.
“Jesus,” she says. “You just lived every fantasy I’ve ever had.” Then she looks at me skeptically. “So he just happened to be on the very same train you were on, in the very same car?”
“He was on his way into town to go shopping,” I say.
She raises her eyebrows. “In Brettsville? What did he buy?”
“Nothing. He told me he was here to shop, but I think he came to town to see a different girl.”
She takes a bite of something that had been sitting on her desk, but since we both just got to work I’m wondering how long it had been sitting there. “What makes you think that?” she says with her mouth full.
“Why else would he be here? Obviously not for the stores. Shopping is way better in San Pedro County where he lives.”
Stephanie wipes the crumbs off her shirt and turns her computer on, pretending to work. I do the same just in case our boss walks by. “So he came to town to see another girl but ended up spending time with you instead?” she says.
It does seem odd, but she might’ve stood him up or something, or maybe her plans changed and I ended up being a convenient plan B. Except I don’t remember him ever checking his phone other than to look on Twitter. I was with him the whole time. He didn’t even slip away to use the bathroom except after we had sex, and even then he left his phone next to mine on the nightstand.
“If you have a theory, I’d love to hear it,” I say.
“I got nothing. It’s a strange coincidence.” Her eyes grow wide. “Or maybe it’s fate. Maybe the two of you are soul mates and it’s the universe pushing you together.”
I roll my eyes. Stephanie always tends to venture into new age ideology. Every time she has anything in common with a new guy she blames it on fate, and look how those turned out. But I have to admit, the thought of Heath and me being made for each other is quite appealing. His is a face I wouldn’t mind looking at every day for the rest of my life. Unfortunately, I don’t share her same belief system. Everybody takes the train. It’s the fastest and cheapest way to get from one town to the next and not have to worry about traffic jams, rush hours, and ice on the road. It’s possible we’ve ridden in the same train car many times and it was only because of our conversation on Twitter that our crossing paths were finally revealed. Though I doubt I would forget a face like his. When I’m on the train, I keep my head down and try to get from point A to point B without anything weird happening like most people onboard. So it’s very possible I might’ve missed him before.
“Are you going to see him again?” she asks.
My shoulders wilt and there’s a tinge of sadness in my stomach that feels almost like a hunger pang. I want to see him again, of course, but chances are it won’t happen.
“I doubt it,” I say.
She doesn’t press me about it or try to convince me to try and talk to him again. We both know how one night stands work. No one wants to be that annoying person who lingers longer than they should.
I’m thankful when she drops the subject. We don’t talk about it again. We don’t talk about anything actually. It might be the most productive day at work that we’ve ever had.