Lynne

Chapter 25

 I had grown used to the confusion of waking up somewhere new, but this was entirely different.

The moment I opened my eyes to see the familiar comforter adorning Len's bed, hearing his soft breathing behind me, and feeling his arms still wrapped around me, the events of the previous night rushed through my head. He was still asleep, as far as I could tell, and I was thankful for that. I could hardly face the fact that everything would be different now. And I didn't have to face that fact until Len woke up.

With a permanent blush over my face, I tried to lean over the side of the bed. My clothes were... somewhere in the room. Len's grip on my made it difficult to move. Fear that I would wake him shook me as I wiggled out of his grip. But, like always, he slept like a dead person.

I didn't even want to get out from under the covers without my clothes, and, thankfully, my shirt was within arms reach. After sliding it on, and finding everything else, I tiptoed out of the room.

Even the apartment felt alien to me. It was early in the morning, but clouds covered the sky, and no sun shone through the window. Snow was piled up on our deck as well as the entire city beyond. It was freezing cold, I realized with a shiver, both inside the apartment and out. The thermostat read sixty-eight degrees. I cranked it up.

...What do I do? It was the weirdest question to ask myself, and yet it was the only one in my mind. Should I make breakfast like normal? Watch TV? Go back to sleep in my room? Should I go downstairs and avoid him? Should I call Ia and tell her everything that happened? Did I even want anyone to know?

The only thing I decided on was that I was cold, so I pulled a small blanket off of the couch and wrapped it around my shoulders. It did nothing to protect my bare legs, but I felt warmer nonetheless.

Well, are you hungry? My rational side asked me with a bit of extra attitude. If you're hungry, make breakfast.

I strode to the kitchen, but I wasn't hungry.

Holding my blanket with one hand, I cracked a few eggs into a bowl and mixed them. French toast for him, today. Four pieces with grape jelly on top and syrup.

First you fuck him, and now you're cooking him breakfast? What are you, his housewife? I sneered at my own conscience. Clearly, my rational side was unhappy with me.

The silence of the rest of the apartment was comforting. Here I was, in my home, warm, fed, and alive during the onset of winter in my favorite place on earth, in a building full of people who cared about me and loved me and wanted the best for me. The heat of the stove warmed the apartment further, only increasing my comfort. When I had the chance, I lit the fireplace in the living room. Minutes ticked by as the stack of french toast on the plate grew, until I had made enough for the both of us. I'd eat once I had the stomach to. The more deep breaths I took, the more comforting thoughts I told myself, the more I relaxed. Everything is okay. Everything is norm-

The thought instantly vanished from my head as the door to Len's room opened.

I whipped my head around, our eyes meeting as he froze in the doorway. He had put his same pajama pants back on, but nothing else.

Shit. I guess he did just stick his dick in me the night before.

My face flushed red, and we both stood motionless, trying to find something, anything, to say to each other. It was impossible. My heart dropped. We had taken it too far, and now there really was no going back. Despair filled me. My only solace was that he seemed just as flustered as I was.