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ADRIK
Iwake up on the bed, no blankets on top of me because they’re all knotted up in a twisted mess on the floor.
Light streams in from the balcony, slicing across the empty mattress that no longer contains Sabrina or the blonde Australian.
I sit up, looking around the empty suite.
I see the pile of wet towels from when we all took a dip in the infinity pool sometime after midnight.
In the living room, dozens of empty dishes scatter across the table from our three-a.m. room service. We gorged ourselves on fresh fruit, french fries, bacon sandwiches, and chocolate cake, then piled back in the bed for another round of sex.
Sometime around sunrise we all fell asleep, curled up in a pile like puppies who played too long.
I don’t care that Kylie left. It stings that Sabrina did, too.
I thought … I guess I thought we connected last night. Enough that she’d still be here in the morning.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, a headache throbbing in my temples. The water bottles next to the bed have all been drained.
Fuck.
The disappointment settling on my shoulders is heavy and dull. I’m trying not to let myself feel it, but it’s impossible to ignore. My night with Sabrina went far beyond what I’d anticipated. I wasn’t ready for it to end.
I’m irritated with myself for falling asleep so hard. I should have heard her get up. I wanted to talk to her.
Our night together is already fading, too intense to be real. The day before me is solid and dreary, the magic disappearing along with Sabrina.
I don’t want to get up, but what else is there to do?
The logistics of shipping my car and my bike back home, of paying for the room and booking a flight for myself, seem tedious in the extreme. I sigh, head in my hands, trying not to think about it.
Before I can push myself up from the mattress, I hear the scrape of a key in the lock.
The door swings open. Sabrina backs in, carrying a coffee in each hand, a brown paper bag clenched in her teeth. She sets one coffee down and hands me the other, taking the bag out of her mouth so she can speak.
“I got you cream with no sugar,” she says. “Did I guess right?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “You did.”
“It’s a gift.” Sabrina grins.
The wave of warmth that washes over me at the sight of her is almost embarrassing. I hadn’t realized how low I was feeling until she buoyed me up again.
She’s wearing the same black dress from the night before, with my leather jacket thrown over it. The way the jacket hangs down halfway to her knees, the sleeves partly covering her hands, is incredibly endearing. It reminds me how much smaller Sabrina is. She’s vulnerable, more than she would want anyone to perceive.
I like the way my jacket looks on her. I like that she chose to wear it again.
“I thought you left,” I admit.
Sabrina pauses in the process of opening up the brown paper bag. She looks at me, her expression serious.
“Would you have been disappointed if I did?”
I could play it cool. Shrug, or say something callous like, “Your loss.” Instead, I answer honestly.
“For the first time ever … yeah. I would be.”
She fumbles with the bag, removing a couple of pastries, laying them on a clean napkin on the bed. Color stains her cheeks, the same dusty rose of her lips.
