Vincent

Tears of Guilt

My headache woke me up. My brows met as I kept my eyes closed, bringing my hand up to hold my head. God, I couldn't remember anything. A soft groan left my lips as I turned in bed but my body met something. My eyes flew open.

Vincent was lying next to me, a bare arm over his eyes, his lips slightly parted, his other arm stretched out, over my head. I frowned. When did he get in my bed? My eyes looked down. He was shirtless, my blanket covering only half of his body. My frown deepened. Curious, I lifted up my cover.

I was naked.

So was he.

A shocked gasp left my lip, my hand covering my lips so I wouldn't wake up Vincent but I heard him shuffle beside me.

What- some memories started coming back to me. God, I told him so much that I'd never say sober. Well, maybe but that's not the point. Vincent just cheated on his fiance with me. They were not broken up, not to my knowledge. I mean, Vincent pushed me off of him when I kissed him. He was big on loyalty. He had the option to cheat on her a while ago but he didn't. He didn't seem like the type. He wasn't the type.

I felt sick. I did something wrong. Yes, we were both entirely way too drunk but still. . .

Vincent moved beside me, his arm grabbing my body. He sighed. I looked up at him with wide, nervous eyes. He still had his eyes closed. My heart was beating so quickly.

"Vin-" I started but paused, my voice wavering.

He shushed me but a crease formed between his eyebrows. He moved his hand up, grabbing my bare shoulder. He stiffened beside me, opening his eyes. He paused for a moment before sitting up, looking down at the bed. My heart was beating out of my chest. I set myself up on my elbows, my eyes on him.

"Vince-"

"Shh," he cut me off, rubbing his face. "Cazzo. . . ."

I frowned, nervous and suddenly insecure. He wouldn't have had sex with me if he wasn't drunk. Conor didn't stick around when I wouldn't.

He moved over me, getting out of bed and grabbing his pants. Um. . .

"I'm sorry," I forced out. "I-"

"Why? We were both fucking drunk," he muttered. It didn't make me feel any better. My throat was dry. "Tell me I wore a fuckin' condom," he mumbled.

"Um, I think you did," I whispered. I couldn't really remember what my drunk eyes saw 100%.

Ouch.

Did he not want kids with me? I did. Was I just a hormonal teenager? I thought he felt the same. . .

"So-" I paused, thinking about what to say. I didn't want to be vulnerable right now but I wanted to ask. I didn't want to come off as desperate. I'd rather die. But I said it anyway. "Did you mean what you said?"

"I never say something I don't mean," he snipped. "Look- Alexis- this, this is no good. Okay? Do you th-" he sighed, rubbing his face. It seemed like he was trying to stop himself from saying things. Probably mean things. He looked angry.

"So you're breaking up with-"

"Alexis!" he raised his voice. I scoffed. He was making my headache worse. He shook his head, putting on his shirt, grabbing his phone, wallet, and jacket. "I'm gonna see Michael," he muttered, looking at his phone before he put it to his ear. "Donna?" he whispered as he left, "no, no. . ." was the last thing I heard before the door closed.

I felt so shitty. I sat up in bed, pulling my legs to my chest. Why was he able to walk away so quickly? If he meant what he said, why would he keep running back to her? Was she better than me? What was their history?