Eventually, around four that morning, I'd had enough. He was snoring away, in a deep sleep, and I figured it was probably the best time to sneak out. I'd call a cab and catch a ride home before he woke up, sparing us both the awkwardness of the morning after, of having to make conversation. Hell, we didn't even know each other's names – could it be any more awkward?
Before leaving the bedroom, I looked back at him, resting peacefully and had to smile. He was gorgeous, so incredibly sexy, and we'd shared something last night. There was a connection between us – at least on a physical level. Our bodies had communicated in a way that we hadn't been able to verbally.
It was most definitely something I wouldn't soon forget. He'd given me more than an orgasm; he'd helped me realize that there were other men out there. Men who would find me desirable. Sexy, even. Charlie, wasn't it for me, and I deserved better. I could have thanked him for that – but I wasn't going to stick around to do that. I wanted to be long gone before he ever woke up.
I slipped quietly from his bedroom and moved on tiptoes down the hall. I picked up my clothes from the living room floor and quickly got dressed. Once I'd dressed and had slipped out of his house, I'd called for a cab.
Standing on the curb outside, I turned around and admired his house. It really was a magnificent home, and I had to wonder why he was living there all by himself. Unless, of course, he wasn't. Maybe he had a wife who was out of town. I knew absolutely nothing about this man. He very well could have an entire family off at Disneyland for all I knew.
It just didn't add up to me. A guy like him living in a large house like that all by himself? How did he afford it? Why did he choose to live in such a big place all alone?
But I didn't spend too much time questioning it. None of it mattered. After all, I was never going to see him again, so wondering over his living arrangement didn't matter. Once the cab pulled up, I gave the driver my address and felt relief as we drove away. I'd managed to have a night of intense pleasure with no awkwardness after. As much as I'd have loved to fuck him again someday, it just wasn't in the cards.
I didn't have time for a rebound boyfriend, not right now. And I knew better than to expect anything from a guy who takes a girl home to fuck without so much as knowing her name. As nice as he might have seemed – and he did seem nice – he didn't put off the vibe that he wanted something serious.
Which was a blessing because truthfully, neither did I.
By the time I got home, it was after five in the morning. I groaned when I looked at the clock, realizing that I had to work a few hours later. I put on some coffee and trudged down the hall so I could shower and get ready for the day.
As I stared in the mirror, I could see the exhaustion written all over my face. But along with the dark circles and red, puffy eyes, there was something else there too. I smiled in the mirror and it felt genuine. For the first time in a long time, I was smiling again. There was a lightness to my spirit that hadn't been there for a long, long time. Charlie hadn't broken me, thank God.
I applied concealer to my under-eye circles, but kept the makeup pretty minimal. Nothing like I'd worn on my night out. I had no one I needed to impress at work. I just needed to look professional and clean. My hair was thick and long, and I didn't want to blow dry it, so I pulled it back in a bun, pinning it in place as I straightened my side-swept bangs.
I looked in the mirror again after fixing myself up and nodded approvingly. You could hardly tell I was tired. Okay, maybe if you looked close enough, you could see it. But I looked better than I had before at least. And being tired was okay. No one had to know the reason for why I'd gotten so little sleep the night before. My personal life wasn't their business.
I left a few minutes early and stopped at Starbucks, grabbing a coffee before catching the BART into the city. As I waited in line, I felt confident and happy, which was a really nice change of pace for me. As I approached the barista, I smiled at the familiar face and ordered my usual.
“Vanilla latte with soy milk, no whip, please.”
“Sure thing, Amelia,” the girl said, remembering my name even though I couldn't remember hers. “And the Americano as well? Like usual?”
My heart sank. “Uhh no thank you.”
The Americano was for Charlie. I usually picked up his drink and we met at the BART station where we'd ride into the city together.
The poor girl had no idea why my face fell so quickly, so I feigned a smile for her and shrugged casually, as if it were no big thing.
“Me and Mr. Americano broke up,” I said.
“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.”
She seemed genuinely sorry, and for that reason, I made every effort to read her name tag.