Page 11 of Cade

To pee, of course, but also because I needed a moment to process... well, everything.

And because life was apparently as big a fan of Hallmark movies as my mother was, my movement stirred the sleeping, naked man beside me, and just as I made it to the door, his sleepy voice stopped me dead in my tracks, all piss be damned.

“You’re up,” Weston groaned groggily.

“Uh huh...” I responded, like I’d altogether forgotten the ability to speak like a functional human.

I watched as Weston sat up, noting how the beam of sunlight glistened on his skin, how he ran his hand over his face and through his disheveled, dark hair. My cock twitched, bringing me back to the here and now, reminding me of the magnitude of everything converging on me at once and I jumped into the bathroom, locking the door. In there, I could breathe.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

Everything’s fine...

I made my way to the toilet, realizing as I shook the last bits of piss out, that I was truthfully a sticky, gross mess. My gaze drifted to the stone shower, the door one big see-through pane of glass, and I had to admit a hot shower sounded like just the thing to help clear my head. Just as I was about to turn on the faucet, a slew of images flashed in my brain. Of karaoke kisses, of making out in the car, of Weston’s fingers gripping my hair, holding me still while...

I sucked in a breath as the last image came to me, of Weston above me, staring down at me while he...

Oh God.

Did we...

The memory of his tongue, his fingers, his cock filling me made my heart stop.

We did. I let him top me.

Without a condom.

Oh fuck, this... this is not good.

I never sleep with a guy on the first date!

My psyche spiraled as that sarcastic, bitter part of me chastised myself.

Drinks at Bar Bingo the night you met does not actually count as a date.

“Cade?” Weston’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“You... okay in there?” he asked, and I could hear the caution in his voice. “I, uh, kind of need to you know—”

I shook my head, turning on the shower, if only because I didn’t know what else to do. The sound of his voice alone made me want to melt, to hide until all the doubt and concern dissipated into his warm chest and spicy scent, but I could not face him like this—a god damn anxious mess—not now. Not after…

“Yeah, fine. I’ll, uh... be out in a sec,” I said as I stepped in the shower, closing the shower curtain. “Just, uh, getting cleaned up,” I added, regretting the words immediately, feeling foolish.

God, he must think I’m an idiot...

It didn’t take long for me to wash up, as it never did. I never understood how some men could take so long in the shower, when all they had to do was run some shampoo through their hair and some soap over their body.

I watched as the water circled the drain, feeling the effects of the night of drinking and sex hit me like a sack of potatoes. My stomach flipped as I remembered everything all at once.

Like stumbling like a newborn fawn over Weston as he dragged me through the hotel room, or how I nearly mauled him in the backseat of the car.

You can do this. It isn’t like it’s your first time. You’ve got this. Just grab a towel, get dressed, and be on your way. Preserve your dignity.

I nodded to myself as I finished my business, grabbing a towel, and wrapping it around my waist. In the mirror, I could see my own reflection, my messy hair, eyes slightly puffy from a night of bad decisions.

I knew on the other side of the door everything was going to change, and reality would finally sweep in and remind me of the harsh truth that what was arguably the most fun I’d had in a long time, had come to an end.

Still, a part of me wished it could go on a little longer, albeit without the addition of a throbbing headache. For a moment, I thought perhaps I could just stay in the bathroom.

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