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Nothing.
When I turn my attention back to the bed, I notice a folded piece of paper resting on the nightstand. I wander over and pick it up, and sit down on the bed as I flip open the piece of paper.
Carter,
I know this is one of those typical morning after moments where you wake up and find that you’re lying naked in an empty bed. I was up early this morning and didn’t want to wake you, so I called roadside assistance to come and help with my car, and then I took a cab back to where we left it. Last night was magical— no, it was more than that. It was fucking spectacular, and probably too perfect, and maybe that’s why I’m running away. And I think it’s safe to say that what happened last night was just an act of impulse in the spur of the moment. We were both fucked over by our boyfriends and just using each other as a rebound. Yeah, I know exactly how that sounds, but let’s be honest, it’s the truth. Call me a fucking coward or any name that you like. I deserve it. I’m so grateful for your kindness last night and rescuing me, but you have to know that it was just one night of love, nothing more. Please don’t try and find me. It’s easier if we just live it as a memory because that’s all it was, and you’ll always be there.
Take care,
Dylan.
What. In. The. Actual. Fuck?
Live it as a memory, seriously?
I screw up the paper in anger and throw it at the wall. I get off the bed and head for the shower, slamming the door behind me.
After checking out at reception, I grab a few more supplies from the vending machine in the foyer and walk to my car. I pull open the door and step inside, where I am immediately met with the intoxicating scent of his cologne. I start the engine and pull out onto the highway and continue my journey to the cabin. I have absolutely no idea what the fuck happened last night. One minute we were lying on the bed, talking and flirting, and the next minute we were on the balcony having mind-blowing sex. It just doesn’t make any sense. Why would he just up and go like this without a proper explanation? Because a note on the side of the bed doesn’t fucking cut it. I have no fucking clue where he is, or where he was headed, and perhaps that’s exactly what he wanted so that I wouldn’t find him. Maybe he thinks it’s for the best but I can’t accept that. Last night meant something—isn’t that what I’m supposed to think in these situations? I’ve never had my heart broken before, except when I found out Rusty was cheating on me. The sun is finally up, drying up the wet roads, and it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day—well, almost beautiful.
I lower the window and enjoy the cool breeze coming in as I continue driving along the highway. I’m less than two hours away from the cabin, and while my head is still full of unanswered questions, I know that looking for Dylan would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. So, I decide to let it go, for now, and just concentrate on the weekend where I can relax and be carefree.
When I finally get to the cabin, I let out a long sigh of relief. It’s been an exhausting journey, and one that I’ll be glad to forget all about once I’m inside with a cold beer and a new change of clothes. Getting out of the car, I check the mailbox and make my way down the path and up the stairs onto the front patio, then grab the key that’s hidden within one of the potted plants my grandmother gave me when I first bought this place.
Once I step inside, I inhale the smell of fresh country air, and the scent of freshly cleaned sheets, as I notice them still hanging on the drying rack from the last time I was here two weeks ago. The first thing I do is head to my room, open the closet and quickly change into some clean clothes. I throw my dirty ones into the washing machine. I pass through the living room and wander into the kitchen and open the fridge, grab a bottle of beer from the top shelf and close the door. I go back into the living room and sit down on my recliner, grab the remote and switch on the television.
“Finally,” I sigh, signing into my Netflix account.
I slump back in my recliner, taking a few sips of my cold beer, and even though my eyes are glued to the television screen, I can’t help but think about Dylan. How does one man just walk into my life, turn it completely upside down and just walk away without thinking about anyone but himself? He really is a gutless fucking coward who won’t even own up to his responsibilities. I mean, one night of love and he just gets up and leaves.
Fuck him!
That’s just the point. I did. And now, he’s all I can think about. How does that happen after just one night? Frustrated, I switch off the television and walk outside to the pool area. There are a few leaves in the water, so I grab the pool net and scoop them out before sitting down and putting my legs in. I close my eyes and tilt my head backward, taking in the warm rays of the sun. In the moment, my head fills with images of Dylan between my thighs devouring my cock, and somehow, he managed to crawl into my mind and know exactly what the fuck I wanted because he was pushing all the right buttons, making for one erotic sex dream. I quickly shake the idea out of my head and lift my feet out of the pool, stand up and walk back inside.
Nothing seems to be helping because all I can think about is last night and that man standing by the road in the pouring rain with no umbrella and no coat. Usually when I come up here, I can switch my brain off and forget about everything but that doesn’t seem to be the case with Dylan. He’s the only thing I’ve thought about for the past twelve or so hours. Jesus, listen to me. I’m starting to sound like an obsessed, crazed stalker who’s out to seek his prey. This cabin is supposed to be the one place that helps me let loose and be at peace with the world, but right now, the only thing it’s doing for me is making me imagine all sorts of indecent things I could be doing to a mysterious stranger in my huge king-sized bed in my bedroom.
How is it even remotely possible for one man to make me feel like this after just one sexual encounter? Fuck it, I know the bastard told me that he didn’t want me to find him, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to just sit here for the next two days, wallowing in self-pity and thinking about what could have or should have been. No. I’m going to find this guy, even if it means chasing him to the ends of the earth because I’m not giving up without a fight. Except there’s just one problem–– I don’t have a fucking clue where to start my hunt.
The thought of hunting makes my stomach growl, and I realize that I haven’t had a single bite to eat since leaving the hotel. Actually, now that I think about it, I haven’t had a decent meal since lunch at the office yesterday. Opening the fridge again, I examine the contents and make a list of things to get from the grocery store, then remember that I didn’t even make my intended journey to the store on the way to the cabin. I grab my keys from the counter, put on my socks and sneakers and head to the car. When I’m out on the main road, there’s a lot of traffic on the road. A lot of holiday goers make their way up here for weekends, taking advantage of the lake for fishing. Once I arrive at the store, I park the car, grab a cart from the parking lot and make my way inside the building.
I grab everything I need in less than forty-five minutes and place all the items in the trunk, then take a look at the time. It’s after midday and I could really go for some food. I don’t really want to eat takeout, but by the time I get back to the cabin and cook some food it’s going to be late in the afternoon, and I also want to make time to go for a swim in the pool. Deciding that my only quick option for a bite to eat is going to be takeout, I opt for a healthy choice and choose Subway located next door. I walk in and place my order with the woman behind the counter and pay attention as she prepares my footlong chicken sub. I’m very particular when it comes to people preparing my food, so I watch closely and make sure they don’t rip me off with their toppings and any extras that I ask for. I’m a paying customer, so I expect to get exactly what I pay for. After paying for my order, I leave the store and make my way to the car and head back to the cabin.
Lunch was satisfying and after a short nap, I’ve decided to spend the afternoon in the pool. I love the weather up here. When it’s cold, wet, and windy in New York, it’s almost the complete opposite here and more like I’m staying at a private resort in Fiji or Bali. That was one of the reasons I purchased this place because I can’t acclimate to cold weather. Nope. Zero. Zilch. I usually spend my winter months working up here to escape the freezing cold. Okay, so it’s not completely winterproof but I have less chance of catching pneumonia.
I really do love it up here, and perhaps if I wasn’t so caught up with my work, I’d take the leap and move up here permanently. I even considered using it as an AirBnb at one point but decided against it. I didn’t want strangers staying in my house making a muck and causing damage to something that I worked fucking hard to pay for. No. This is my sanctuary, and while I have some wonderful memories here, there’s also those that I would rather forget. Like the last time I brought Rusty up here for a dirty weekend away only to find out less than two weeks later that the guy had been cheating on me. Yeah, I’m a sucker when it comes to love. Rusty and I were together for just over a year, and we loved coming up here. When I left the office yesterday, I was so angry and frustrated, all I wanted to do was get as far away from work and New York as possible and hope that I didn’t run into the bastard in my travels. And of course, I never anticipated picking up a random stranger on the side of the road. A random stranger who, last night, blew my mind with incredible sex.
Here I go again, thinking about him like I’m some lovestruck teenager. Hello, Shakespeare! With my arms stretched out on the outside of the pool, I find myself thinking about last night, again. Sex, and in the pouring rain on a fucking balcony, was certainly not how I visioned spending my Friday night. Especially when I nearly had my brains completely fucked out of me. I think it’s safe to say that I’ve passed the point of what’s considered a normal crush and driven straight to obsession territory. How? How can one man do that to me in such a short period of time? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him ever since last night, for fuck’s sake.
Get your shit together, Carter, and let it go. He obviously doesn’t want to be found so just let it go.
“Shut up!” I tell my conscience. “You’re not helping.”
And now I’m having a conversation with myself. Jesus Christ what the fuck is happening to me? I kick away from the edge and swim underwater, nothing like some laps to relieve the tension in my muscles and clear my head.
I stayed in the pool a lot longer than I intended because it’s dark by the time I’m back inside the house, showered and walking around the living room with nothing but a towel wrapped around my waist. After getting dressed, I prepare a quick and light meal, pour myself a glass of red and sit down at the table. My phone pings, alerting me to an email from work but I ignore it. I grab the remote resting on the table and point it at my Hi-Fi system and turn it on. I connect the unit to my phone via Bluetooth. I find my eighties and nineties playlist, press shuffle, and hit play. The opening chords to Roxette’s “It Must Have Been Love” vibrate through the speakers.
“You have got to be shitting me,” I say.
I quickly switch to the next song, Ace of Base, “The Sign.”
