Peeling my eyes open it’s as though I haven’t slept at all. I guess I probably haven’t. Sleep was hard to find after Saxon left.
Looking at the alarm clock, it’s 10:30 am, and I can’t believe I’ve laid in bed this long just thinking about everything that happened last night, during and afterwards. What he said, what it could mean, blah, blah, blah.
I’m so sick of thinking so hard about everything and analysing every little thing that happens. I swear God cursed us when he set women up to be like that. I just want to forget about it and let things work themselves out. Just go with the flow.
That’s what I did last night and look how that ended up.
How did that end up? Has it ended horrifically and ended our friendship or did it just end with some hot and wonderful sex? Has that hot and wonderful sex ended? Was it a once-only? I clearly told Saxon it was. Do I want it to be? Was he in agreement? God, shut up Brooke. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
Last night we had sex. No, not just sex. Great sex. Toe curling, mind blowing sex. The world didn’t end after. The floor didn’t fall out from under us. We are both adults. Both consenting.
Going with the flow ... yes, I can do that.
I jump out of bed to stop the torturous thoughts going on and on. My body breaks out in goose bumps as the coldness in the air bites my skin, so I grab my red with pink polka dot flannel pyjamas out of the drawer.
After getting dressed, I head into the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of orange juice and carry it over to the couch after deciding the balcony will be too chilly. Sitting on the couch cross-legged, I drink half the orange juice before placing it on the coffee table and grabbing the remote.
Leaning back, I switch the TV on and begin channel surfing while thinking about what I should do today. A day in my pyjamas and some mindless television sounds perfect. I search my mind to see if I have the correct unhealthy, full-of-fat-and-sugar snacks. I’d hate to have to change to go down to the supermarket.
While I adjust the pillow to lie down on the couch my phone rings from the bedroom. I jump up and run to my room. Why do phones never ring for long enough before they go to voicemail?
As I make it to my bedside table I glance at the screen and see Rachel flashing on it. Hell no, I am not answering that. As soon as I speak to her I’ll break down and tell her everything. I’m not ready for that. She’ll want me to explain it all to her, and I can’t even explain it to myself yet.
Grabbing the phone, and the hair-tie which rests next to it, I throw my phone in my top pocket and tie my hair up in a messy bun on top of my head.
Making my way back to the couch, I stop off in the kitchen and grab the caramel popcorn and peppermint chocolate bar first. If eating this junk for breakfast is wrong then I don’t want to be right.
Surfing the channels, I land on some old episodes of Jersey Shore. It’s my guilty pleasure. If anyone ever even mentions it I pretend I haven’t heard of it. Who are the characters? The Satisfaction, Sneakie, K Pow? I have no idea.
Secretly, I know their names and have watched every season. Three times. Nate would kill me if I made him watch it, and it was always something I had to record and enjoy when he was working late.
The thought makes me sad. I don’t have to worry about that stuff anymore, like being forced to watch sports, Air Crash Investigations or Tosh.O. Who I am kidding? I love Tosh.O, that guy is twisted.
I go to the recording menu of the TV and see all the Tosh.Os which have been recorded. At some point in the last six months the recorder has filled up and is no longer recording. I don’t feel like dealing with that right now so I return to Jersey Shore and set in for a relaxing day.
It’s not long into the episode when my doorbell rings. Who would come over without calling first?
Rachel. Shit. She did call. Twice. Shit, shit, shit. It’s going to be worse talking to her face to face. I should have answered the phone and faked sick. Shit.
I head to the door, still clutching at a piece of peppermint chocolate and trying to dissolve the large piece in my mouth. Swinging open the door I yell, “What the hell, bitch?”
Saxon’s eyes are wide and he has an amused grin on his face. “Well, good morning to you too.”
My mouth is hanging open, and I know all the blood has rushed from my face. I’m shocked and not only because Saxon is here, but because he stands before me in dark wash jeans with a tight black t-shirt. It has been years since I’ve seen him in anything but a suit or tuxedo. He looks so much younger dressed casually. Less stressed and almost more… carefree.
Shaking those thoughts, I meet his eyes. “I thought you were Rach. What do you want?” My words come out more harshly than I intended, and Saxon’s smile turns to a frown, his eyes losing their sparkle.