Everything

III

Waking up fuzzy only for your life to refocus into gut-splitting agony has to be one of the most horrifying things in the world.

Okay, fair enough, I may be exaggerating, but opening my eyes to remember how Mark had callously broken my heart without a second thought was like being hit by a freight train of emotion.

I had never been in love before.

A sheltered teenager, I was desperate to find someone who actually thought I was attractive. So many of my girlfriends had countless stories of first kisses, sweet nothings and romantic evenings, and yet I'd had none of that. I was the fun yet reasonably sensible and cautious girl that preferred solitary reading to late night socialising.

Maybe if I'd had a boyfriend in my teens I would've been prepared for this. I would've had sufficient practise. So, my first heartbreak at the age of twenty-six wasn't the end of the world, but it sure as hell felt like it.

Spencer's bed was especially comfortable, but seemingly he vacated it a while ago as the other side of the mattress was cold, the covers carelessly thrown backwards as if he'd run out of bed and the sheets crumpled. I didn't mind too much at Spencer being a no-show when I woke up. Things would be awkward. Spencer would want to check whether I was okay and I don't think I'm ready to tell him about everything that's happened.

Spencer has the tendency to become... heated when he doesn't like things. I know for a fact that him and Mark had a mutual loathing for one another, which was a real shame because I wanted my best friend and my boyfriend to get along, so if I told Spencer the way in which things ended, it would result in fisticuffs and either Mark or Spencer would end up getting seriously injured. The more I think about it, it would probably be Mark, which should make me happy, but I wouldn't want to bail Spencer out of jail either.

Stripping out of his t-shirt, I folded it and placed it neatly on the bed, fixing the covers whilst I was at it. Next, a cathartic shower, where I pathetically leant against the tiles and cried my eyes out until my skin was pruned and cold. With one of Spencer's personalised towels, I methodically hand-dried my out of control mane and eventually decided to pin it up and out of the way before it turned into a nightmare.

My clothing situation was next to none, but Spencer had given me some of his old sweatshirts to sleep in before, so I had no problem in selecting a baggy red t-shirt to wear over my panties and bra for comfort.

Whilst I was getting ready, I had devised a new strategy. Completely ignore the situation at hand and it will resolve itself. If I didn't give a second thought to the way Mark had hurt me then I would eventually come through this relatively unscathed. Instead, I would focus on my career – the opening for partner, the application process and doing my all to get firmly in the good books of Mr Boone and Mr Webster. It would give me a valid excuse to throw myself into my work without the third degree.

I had been silently contemplating my next move for far too long and realised I was being a completely selfish house guest. Spencer and I are far too familiar with one another for pleasantries, but that did not give me any excuse for camping out in his bedroom and not helping with breakfast.

So, I wandered aimlessly and barefoot out of his room and into the wide open space, the large glass window providing a picturesque view of the New York skyline which almost made me breathless, no matter how many times I'd seen it from this vantage point. I stretched my tired limbs out to the sun and stood basking in the glow of the fresh morning.

"Good morning, sleepy head."

I jumped with a start at the sound and turned towards the deep British voice.