Page 4 of Christmas Coffee

3

Nova

Itug my long hair over my shoulder, away from my sweaty skin, and smile. He’s insanely hot. In fact, I could have fallen for him and I know it. To save myself the heartache, I took him to bed. At least that’s what I tell myself as I wait for him to come back. There’s no way to recover from a one-night tryst with a random guy. I’ve tried it. There’s nothing after that which could possibly live up to the unrealistic expectations that have grown in my mind. If a guy is good in bed, he’s usually a total asshole, which is why I had a long string of non-serious relationships until I met Ben. As for the one-nighter type of men, their bedroom skills come from years of dicking around, nailing anything that moves. This guy has mad skills, but there’s something else there—a haunted look in his eyes.

Something is gnawing away at him. I sense it, I’m not sure what it is exactly, but the slope of his shoulders and the twinge of regret in his voice makes me wonder. Maybe he’s coming off a bad break up too. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to be alone. Night is the worst time to be isolated. Every worry I ever had seems to creep up until there’s no escape. Being alone makes it worse.

I don’t want to think of Ben or what happened. There’s a hole in my chest where my heart belongs. Easing the ache for a bit, a distraction of slick bodies and sensations will help. It helped in the past, but the effects don’t last long enough. I thought I was done with this part of my life. It’s strange to be back in this vulnerable spot. Maybe I use sex as a defensive mechanism, a way to push guys away. The truth is, I didn’t plan on stopping at the bar tonight. The day went to hell and the car died just as I ran off from Ben. Luckily, I was able to push it into the nearest parking lot, which was the bar across the street. No one stopped to help, not that anyone ever does. It’s not like that here. At this point, my car is mostly duct tape and barely runs, but it’s all I have.

I know what I’m doing is reactionary. That if I hadn’t gotten dumped, I wouldn’t have said yes to this guy. Add up the rejection, cheating, and disbelief and I want to forget for a while. I can’t believe Ben was seeing someone else while he was living with me. I can’t get past that. What’s wrong with me? How did I miss that?

Then I quit. I walked away from a great job. I had no choice. I can’t go back there.

I’ll have to visit the employment agency on Friday and beg for a shit job that pays too little. People ask me why I’m not in college, or they look at me and assume I’m a student. It makes job-hunting difficult. I’m a social pariah for not continuing my education. There’s so much pressure to do what other people think is right. At times, I’m not sure who I am at all. Add in the swiftly approaching holidays and this entire mess is a nightmare. I don’t want to think about Thanksgiving tomorrow. I don’t want to pretend that it won’t suck, that I’m fine. I’m not, but I can put blinders on and keep marching.

One day everything will be all right. One day things will be good again. Until then, keep going and don’t stop. If I slow down, I’ll fall apart. I can’t let that happen.

I’m twirling my finger against the sheet forcing my mind back to thinking about the stranger. His body tells me everything I need to know. He’s a pampered ass, one of those rich kids that has time to work out and get rock hard abs and a matching ass. His arms are thick, powerful, but he’s careful with me. I like it. I can’t wait to see what he’s going to do.

I roll onto my side after a second. I glance at the door that hasn’t moved. The hallway is silent. His sweater is still on the chair. The pit of my stomach dips. There’s no way he walked out, but the sinking feeling in my gut is telling me a different story. I wait another minute or two and pull on a robe and pad over to the door. I press my ear to the door and listen.

Nothing.

I pull the door open wide, throwing it back, hoping he’s there, but the hallway is empty.