I’m not sure how long I’ve been lying here, with my head on Vincent’s shoulder, arm across his stomach, staring at his chin. I didn’t mean to sleep over. I don’t think either us intended to nod off, but after the second round of sex it just sort of happened. That’s what has me wide awake. Memories from last night. After going down on me like a goddamn pro, Vincent took his time removing the rest of my clothing. Kissing every inch of my skin as he did. Worshipping my body. Making love to me. And that’s the kicker. It didn’t feel like fucking. Didn’t feel like a casual thing. It felt like relationship sex. The sort of sex you have with someone you have feelings for. Not the sex you have when sex is all you have to give.
I wonder if he felt it too. And what he thinks about it. What he plans to do about it. I know I agreed to casual, saying that I’d never date an asshole like him. But I may have lied.
I let out a quiet groan at my own stupidity. I shouldn’t be here. Not just this morning, I shouldn’t have come here last night. This man has given me nothing but confusion since our Minnesotan reunion. Since he kissed me with passion in the elevator before dismissing me freshly fucked in his office. I should probably hate him. Or at the very least I shouldn’t like him. But unfortunately for me, my heart and my vagina don’t seem to be listening to my head.
The arm that’s around my back starts to twitch. I almost smile but then his arm jerks and a low moan slips from his lips. It’s not a sexy moan, it’s a pained moan. He’s dreaming and it’s not good.
Just as I open my mouth to say his name, I hear the telltale sound of a door closing somewhere in the apartment. Followed by voices.
Shit.
“Vincent. Vincent, wake up.” I sit up and shake his shoulder.
Aware that I’m stark naked, I do my best to hold the blanket around me.
“Vincent.” I hiss his name louder.
One moment he’s sleeping and dreaming. The next he’s sitting bolt upright, eyes wide open. He looks wild. And haunted.
“Vincent.” I whisper.
His guarded gaze shoots to me, and suddenly I feel very exposed.
I gently place my hand on his arm. “I think someone is here.”
“What?” His voice is all gravel.
Before I can respond we both hear the voices. They’re far away, probably in the kitchen, but I can tell they’re female.
“Fuck!” Vincent jumps out of bed and starts pulling on a pair of sweatpants. “Goddamnit.”
There’s no mistaking the anger in his voice and I’m abruptly feeling very unwelcome. Unsure what to do, I start to slide out of bed to find my clothes.
“No! You stay here until I get Annie to her room.” Vincent snaps at me, halting my rise from the bed. “I never let her see the women I’m fucking.”
He yanks a t-shirt over his head, cursing under his breath before he storms out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
I’m so shaken. The distraught expression on his face when he first woke up had startled me. But it’s his words that have me trembling. I’d like to pretend my shaking is due to anger. Anger at Vincent for being a piece of shit asshole. But honestly, it’s from hurt.
Here I was, laying naked in his bed, wondering if he felt the same connection that I had last night. Such a foolish thought since it’s now crystal clear that he didn’t share my feelings. In actuality, he couldn’t have felt more differently than I did. Vincent looked literally disgusted at the idea of his family finding me here.
I brush a traitorous tear away. Then another. God damn him! He never asked me to leave. He didn’t tell me anything! He fell asleep, just like I did.
He’s the one who dragged me to his car last night, telling me that I looked sad. The dickhead told me he’d make me feel better. He acted like he actually fucking cared. And like a total idiot, I believed him.
I bite down on the sound that’s trying to work its way up my throat.
The women I’m fucking. I’d scoff if I weren’t so upset. Earlier this week he lost his mind at the mere idea of me sleeping with other guys. He threatened to confront the alleged men himself to stake his claim. Then he callously throws the women he’s fucking in my face. Implying that he’s still sleeping with whoever he wants. Brushing off what we did last night as just fucking.
Taking a deep breath, I will my eyes to dry. At this point I don’t even know if I should believe his bullshit about never bringing women to his apartment. Vincent probably doesn’t even know his own truth half the time.
Looking over at the bedside clock I see that it’s barely 6:30 in the morning. I can’t imagine this is the normal time that his mom brings Annie home. Maybe they had plans he forgot about. Or maybe something happened. I push that thought away, refusing to feel even a scrap of worry on Vincent’s behalf.
Wedging myself into my bra, I search for my underwear but can’t find them. Fuck it. I’m sure they’re ruined anyways. I carry my dress into the bathroom and five minutes later, knowing full well that I look like I’ve been crying, I crack open the bedroom door.
My purse and shoes are up front for all to see, so I’m not sure what exactly he hopes to accomplish with this sneaking around crap. Plus, how am I supposed to know when the coast is clear. Am I supposed to sit here until I hear a special bird call?
Not hearing voices, I stick my head out the door. Thinking back to which room was Annie’s I crane my neck until I can see her door. It’s shut. It was open when we walked past last night so that must mean he has her in there. Schooling my features as best as possible, I hurry down the hall. Careful to tread softly.
Stepping into the great room, I beeline for my purse. I want to be long gone before Annie’s door opens again.
“Oh! Good morning.”
The feminine voice has me stopping in my tracks. I close my eyes and take a breath to steady my already frazzled nerves before opening them and turning slowly. Ten feet away, I find Vincent’s mother, the infamous Marie Mazzanti, standing in the kitchen.
“Good morning.” I whisper, glancing back down the hall.
Vincent will for sure blow a gasket if he finds me talking to his mom.
“Would you like a cup of coffee, dear? I was just about to make a pot.” Marie asks with a smile.
I take a second to wonder how such a seemingly nice woman raised such a devil of a man, before shaking my head. “No, I shouldn’t.” When her eyes narrow at my response, I tack on a quick, “Thank you.”
“Come now, I’m sure Vincent wouldn’t mind if you stayed for some breakfast.”
What’s meant to come out as a scoff, ends up sounding more like a choked cry. I pinch my lips shut, mortified by the sound, but the look on her face tells me she heard my emotions loud and clear.
“I’m sorry.” I whisper, not sure what I’m apologizing for.
Not waiting for a reply, I grab my purse and nearly run to the door. Slipping my shoes on, I let myself out. Not wanting to draw attention to my escape, I quietly close the door behind me as I leave the apartment.
He would have no reason to, but just knowing that Vincent has the ability to pull up security footage, has me making it all the way through the lobby, and out onto the street, before I let my emotions get the better of me.
At this point, I don’t know who I’m more upset with. Vincent for being a jerk, or me for being a fool. Add on the embarrassment of seeing his mother during my literal walk of shame leaves me wanting to scream.
Needing the fresh air, I decide to walk a few blocks before catching a Lyft back to my place.
Nearing the first crosswalk, I get that prickle of awareness on the back of my neck. It’s what my brother would call his sixth sense. The one that tells you when you’re being watched. Taking a quick pause, I look back over my shoulder. It’s early on a Saturday morning, so there aren’t many people out. But the few I see don’t look familiar. I don’t know why I was expecting to see Angelo or one of his goons, but they aren’t there. Not a single person is looking my way.
“Get it together, Sasha.” I mumble to myself, before I continue my panty-less walk home.
