Aftertaste, noun
Af·ter·taste
: persistence of a sensation (as of flavor or an emotion) after the stimulating agent or experience has gone
There was once a time she was running away from her life, from people, from everything and everyone; running a...
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Later that evening, I get under the covers, letting out a heavenly sigh when my head hits the pillow. I hear Alexander rummaging around the flat, doing God knows what, but I only pull the covers higher over my head.
I hear him entering the room and then ... nothing. For a few seconds.
"You asleep?" he questions moments after.
I peek from under the cover, looking at him standing in the light that's coming from the hall. "No," I say. "But I will be in a few minutes most likely."
"Alright," he says, coming towards the bed, leaning down and kissing me. "I'm going out for a run."
That erases sleep from my eyes. I'm so tired I can't wait to lay down, close my eyes and just go to sleep and he's going ... for a run? "Now?" I ask him. I don't even know what time it is, but it's dark out.
"Yeah. Have too much energy and I won't be able to sleep if I don't get it out."
"Oh," I say. And then, without thinking much about my words, I say, "Couldn't you get it out somehow else?"
"Now you're talking, babe!" he says. I heart the grin in his voice. "Are you suggesting something else instead?"
I shake my head, but a smile crawls up on my face. "Nope. Go and take care of yourself." I make sure he catches that double meaning.
I hear him scoff. "Go to sleep, you're being mean to me," he jokes.
"Good night," I chirp, settling in the bed until I'm comfortable again.
I hear him going out minutes later and just moments later, I'm asleep.
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When I wake up again, I know it's late. I hear the shower running and I blink my eyes open, seeing nothing but darkness. Did Alexander just come back now?
I wait until he comes out, turning the light off and quietly going under the covers, not knowing I'm awake. "Did you just come back from your run?" I ask quietly, a little confused. He must've been out for quite some time.
He pulls me into him. "Yeah," he grunts, his arm tightly wrapping around my torso.
"That was a long run," I murmur.
"Yeah," Alexander confirms yet again, kissing the side of my head. "Sleep. You can ask questions in the morning."
I frown. I can ask questions in the morning? Meaning I should? Meaning there are questions to ask? I'm just growing suspicious now and I hate that because I know I can trust him and that he's going to tell me the truth. Always.
I try to calm myself down enough to fall asleep, but it takes me longer than the first time and my suspicion grows by the minute.
