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I want to blame the champagne but even I know, that’s not a real excuse. Drunk or not, I slept with him because I wanted to. Plain and simple.
My stomach twists violently.
I wonder what time he left. Did he stay the night or did he slip out the moment I fell asleep?
I can still hear his whispered words. Feel the fire of his touch- as if it physically scorched my skin.
Trying to shake off the thought, I peel back the stiff, white comforter and force myself out of bed, my balance wavering as I stand. Hoping that a shower will help wash away the memories of last night, and the after effects of the champagne still swimming in my head, I waste no time heading to the bathroom.
Unfortunately, the entire time I’m washing my hair, feeling the suds and water slide down my body, all I can think about is Westin and how I wish it were his hands moving through my hair. His fingers lathering soap against my bare skin.
The thought has me rinsing off in record time and quickly exiting the shower. Dressing in a pair of jeans and a blue tank, I tie my wet hair back in a clip and start packing up my things.
For only being here one night, I sure did a number on my suitcase. Half of my things are strewn out across the room and I’m almost positive at least one belonging of mine will get left behind. It's never on purpose, but it always seems to happen.
My thoughts once again filter back to Westin.
Try as I may, I just can’t seem to shake this feeling in my chest that took hold last night and has yet to ease up.
I need to get out of this room and find something to do until my flight leaves. The temptation of being in the same city as him is just too strong. I need to get out of California and away from the situation, then hopefully I’ll be able to think clearly again.
Right now I feel clouded, conflicted, and more than anything, confused.
Why did he kiss me?
Why did I let him?
Why, when things took a heated turn, couldn’t I just walk away?
Why did I bring him back to my room?
What could I have possibly hoped would happen?
I’m not surprised he slipped out sometime through the night. In true Westin fashion, once he has what he wants, he knows how to make a quick exit.
I think back to the day he left. Even after all this time, the memory still carries a lot of weight. At sixteen, I would have done anything for Westin. Sure, we’d only been dating a few months, but we had been friends before that.
I loved him. Deeply. Completely. With everything that I had.
My world began and ended with Westin Carver.
Until one day, he was gone.
Just like that.
No goodbye. No note. No phone call. It was like poof, no more Westin.
Him leaving would have been devastating in itself, but the fact that he did so the day after we slept together for the first time, well, that's enough to send any teenage girl into a spiraling depression. And it did.
I was a wreck for months.
If I’m being honest, I’ve never really gotten over what he did or why. If my reaction to seeing him last night didn’t make that obvious.
And that’s one of my biggest unanswered questions... Why?
Why did he leave me the way he did?
Why did he never reach out to me?
