[seventy three]

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Indi's POV

I woke up the next morning to a light rain beating against the window. And just like every morning before that, my first thought was him.

But this time it was different. Because, to put it quite bluntly, we'd fucked.

Was fucked the right term? I mean, what we did wasn't as severe as that term sounded. But making love was too romantic for the both of us. And to just say sex sounded too bare.

I don't know. But whatever it was, it was fucking magnificent.

So I couldn't help but smile as I rolled over. But that smile quickly disappeared when I realized that I was alone.

I sat up. "Knee Socks" was still playing faintly from my stereo and there was no sign of Alex or his clothes in my room.

Huh.

I pulled on a pair of pajama shorts and a t-shirt before making my way down the hall. I checked the bathroom and Rose's room, but there was still no sign of him.

And my heart completely sank when I made my way into the living room, because it was completely empty.

He had left.

That fucking bastard.

I was ready to hit something. Better yet, I was ready to hit him.

All at once I felt like the most naive person on earth. Had I actually believed that he'd changed? I mean, last night was arguable the best night of my life, but it obviously hadn't been the same for him. I bet he'd had sex with a hundred girls before me, and I probably wasn't even in the top 50. Maybe not even in the top 75.

I marched toward the front door, not really sure what the hell I was about to go and do, when it suddenly opened, smacking me straight in the forehead.

I stumbled back a few inches, tripping over my own feet and flying back onto my ass. The pain began to radiate through my head, but it seemed to disappear all at once when I looked up and saw Alex staring down at me.

His hair was wet and disheveled from the rain, and was hanging down into his disbelieving eyes.

"Holy fuck, Indi," he said, dropping a plastic grocery bag and hurrying toward me. "Did I just hit you with the door?"

"You're still here," was all I managed to say, because that's all I could focus on.

Alex was still here. He hadn't left me.

"Of course I'm still here, you git," he laughed, pulling me upright. "Do you really think I'd leave after last night?"

"Um, yeah?"

"Of course you did," he said, sitting me down on the arm of couch. "Leave it to you to always expect the worst of me."

"Well, you kind of have a history."

He picked up the bag he'd dropped and held it up to me.

"We ran out of eggs. I went and got some for pancakes and omelettes. You're a heavy sleeper, so I thought you'd still be asleep by the time I got back."

I pressed a hand to the spot where the door hit me as it started to throb. "You used my car."

"And your money," he smirked. He set the eggs on the counter and went into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a bag of frozen peas.

"I'm fine," I told him as he pressed the bag to my forehead. "Just bleeding from the brain a little, probably."

"You're a mess, you know that?"

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