Page 53 of Deeper

Rylan

There is a pounding in my head, a punishment for the many drinks I sucked down last night. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I don’t even attempt to open my eyes. I pull the covers over my head and snuggle in deeper to the warmth of the bed.

Last night returns in pieces. Tatum and I drove up to Mohegan Sun. She convinced me to invite Callen. He came. We spent a night outside our bubble of the club. His lingering touches were certainly more of a public display than I was used to. There could probably be some fun found in that though, stolen moments in actual public instead of in the club. I’d willingly get down on my knees behind any barely hidden spots for him. Callen handled me a lot last night, and we didn’t have sex. His nearness wasn’t sexually motivated. Each lazy contact was familiar, as if he weren’t aware he was even doing it.

The memory throws me off-balance only for a quick second. Two people who have fucked the way we’ve fucked will obviously become comfortable with one another.

All these thoughts of Callen have me reaching out toward the opposite side of the bed. The sheet is cold. I open my eyes for the first time this morning and find that I’m alone in this hotel bed. I’m almost positive I didn’t go to bed alone, though I can’t remember actually getting out of the bath or getting into bed. Curious, I get up to inspect whether Callen is out in the main part of the room and to hunt down some coffee.

The living area is empty, but Tatum is slouched over the counter at a ninety-degree angle in front of the coffeemaker, watching it brew. Her eyes are intensely zeroed in on the drip of the machine, only flicking away from it for a second as I walk in.

“Do you and Callen want coffee? It’s about ready,” she asks.

“I don’t think Callen is here.”

“You don’t think?”

“Well, I don’t see him.” I shrug, not knowing what else to say or if I’m even supposed to care.

“He just left?”

“I guess so.” I reach into a cabinet and grab two mugs before joining Tatum to stare at the machine. “Is it weird that he left like that?”

She pours the coffee as she says, “I don’t know. Between all the hair-pulling and hip-thrusting last night, did he mention having any plans today? Did you check your phone? Maybe he texted you.”

Again, I shrug. I didn’t think to check my phone.

“Um, there kind of wasn’t any hair-pulling or thrusting last night.”

“Slow sex seems vanilla for the two of you.”

“There wasn’t any sex at all.”

Tatum raises her eyebrows in skepticism and then walks toward the room I slept in last night. She doesn’t even bother looking over her shoulder at me as she hollers out, “Well, we obviously have things to discuss. We’ll order room service on Callen and have breakfast in bed.”

That sounds like a perfect idea. She’s a genius.

She calls downstairs and orders one of everything before crawling into bed next to me.

“This is bothering you. Why?” Tatum asks before she takes a sip of coffee.

She’s right. It does bother me, but I’m not sure I want it to. Callen and I aren’t anything. Hell, I don’t even know how he takes his coffee or if he even drinks it. There is so much conflict inside me over it that I can’t untangle it.

“I don’t know.”

“You do know, so tell me.”

I roll my eyes at her, at myself, at trying to dissect a sexual relationship with a man who has never indicated we are anything but fuck buddies. My reaction to waking alone this morning surprises even me. Callen is who he is. There is only sex between us, but our night outside the club has fucked with my head. I should never have invited him.

I wanted Callen for a reason, and suddenly, my purpose seems distorted. My black-and-white perspective is full of color and messy. Like one of those abstract paintings you stare at and have no clue what you’re meant to see.

“It was a mistake to invite him out with us,” I admit.

“Why do you say that?”

“We don’t exist outside of the club. I shouldn’t see him protecting my friend from assholes. He isn’t supposed to have his hands on me while I have my clothes on unless he’s getting ready to take them off. We’re not a couple, so we definitely don’t relax in a bath together or sleep in the same bed, especially without ravishing one another until someone falls apart.”

“So what? You can’t open another layer of your relationship without it meaning the world is going to end?”

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