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Once I sank into my usual spot on the couch, I turned on my new binge series. The familiar tune ofSex and the Citydanced from the TV, and I pulled a blanket over my legs. I missed Katie and the company she would typically provide in this setting. But she would be back tomorrow, and we would have plenty of time to catch up.
About halfway through the episode, my phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Bryson:
What’s up?
I just got done unpacking. You?
Just chillin. Want to hang out?
Only if you are cool with a Sex and the City binge. I am exhausted.
I’ll head out soon.
I sighed into my glass. I wasn’t expecting to see Bryson so soon after returning, and I could feel the glare of Charlotte York’s judgemental stare through the screen.
Usually, I would get out the GameCube, change into a cuter outfit, or check the drink stash before Bryson came over. This time just felt different. I didn’t care about the appearance of the apartment or myself, for that matter. It had been a long break, and the space allowed me to put some things into perspective.
I was an option to Bryson, and if he didn’t like what I presented, then screw him. There was no way a guy like him didn’t hook up with multiple women over winter break. I was still stuck on the fact that when I asked him if he was seeing anyone else, he straight up answered no. For absolutely no reason at all, he lied just to lie.
But still, the sex was good, and Bryson was gorgeous. I couldn’t complain about having a filler when the guy I really wanted was completely fine in the friend zone. Jaxon made it very clear over break that he had no problems hooking up back home with girls. He just didn’t want to hook up with me.
Two incidents happened over break that I couldn’t get out of my head. On a night Jaxon said he wanted to talk, I received a wonderful phone call from a girl with no name saying that Jaxon couldn’t come to the phone right now because she was borrowing him for the evening. It might’ve been innocent had I not heard Jaxon’s full-blown drunken slur in the background asking me not to be upset. While I wasn’t upset at first, my reaction shifted the more I stewed in the rejection.
The first incident would’ve been fine if the second one hadn’t followed it up. On New Year’s Eve, a different girl with no name posted a series of Snapchats to Jaxon’s story. It was pretty much a porn catalog for anyone lucky enough to be Jaxon’s friend. Unfortunately for me, I was one of Jaxon’s top friends, so I got copies sent to my personal account for emphasis.
I guess I thought that if I wasn’t aware that Jaxon was having sex with other people, there was still a chance he might change his mind about being more than friends with me. But that thought quickly evaporated when I was reminded that he had a life outside of BG, outside of the little bubble I lived in when he was with me. Maybe all of that happened over break because of the simple fact that Idesperatelyneeded to move on from the idea of being with Jaxon. Whatever the reason, I was for it.
Damn. Only an hour back in Bowling Green and here I was, questioning all of my self-worth. This stupid college town really had a way of saying, “Did you have a good time getting away from it all? No worries! Welcome back, and here is all the shit wrong about you.”
My phone buzzed on my leg.
Bryson:
On my way.
I bit my lip and watched Carrie Bradshaw spin her daily drama to her girlfriends over lunch.
Perhaps I needed to reevaluate my options. Even though I found a hookup, it was doing the opposite of what I wanted it to. Half a semester was left, and I had plenty of time to find a new prospect. Maybe the next guy wouldn’t cause me to overthink everything I did along the way.
After tonight, I would scrap Bryson and start over. I took another sip of my cocktail and sunk further into the couch, trying not to go deeper into my thoughts than I already was.
* * *
A knockon the door woke me up from my cat nap about ten minutes later.
“Coming!” I yelled from the couch and shrugged the blanket off my shoulders.
I opened the door, and Bryson stood in front of me, looking even better than the last time I saw him. He was in a hoodie and sweatpants, yet somehow he looked like an advertisement for American Eagle’s winter line. His golden-brown eyes looked sleepy, but his smile said he was excited to see me.
“Hey, you.” He brushed past me and swung his book bag onto the couch. A wave of his cologne mixed with Black & Mild tagged along with him. He smelled just like I remembered before break.
As soon as the door was shut, he closed the space between us, pressing my body against the wall. He grinded his erection into my hips, and if I wasn’t awake before I answered the door, I certainly was awake and present now.
I narrowed my gaze. “Hey to you too.”
“I’m happy you’re back,” he murmured against my lips.
