Okay, I had to write this. It has been in my head all morning and I figured I just had to get it down. It hasn't been proof-read or anything so sorry for mistakes and errors. It's probably just a one-shot by the way I have ended it, hope you like it.
Bittersweet.
You wake up before the sun rises but you don't move. As it filters through the room it highlights the remnants of the night before; a few beer bottles, scattered clothes and a messy bed, which you're laid on. She's next to you, but it's not a romantic waking. You're on your back looking at the ceiling and wondering just how long it would take the landlord to notice you didn't pay rent yesterday, she's on her stomach; one arm thrown carelessly sideways and the other resting under her head. You look at her and since she's facing you, you're looking right into her face. Most people go on about the night before, the morning after, and gush about how beautiful or handsome their partner was; without care or stress, just laid peacefully asleep, but you don't understand that. She dosen't look all that amazing. You fell into bed together with makeup on and that made itself clear as it cascaded around her face, her hair was all around the pillow and they had been sweating during the night so some loose hair still stuck to her skin. She looked normal, not amazing or magnificent, just like an average human being. She moves onto her back and you know she's going to wake up soon so you have to leave now, before it gets too difficult.
You get up and pad across the room in your naked glory, picking up your clothes as you do so. You change quickly and quietly and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; you definitely need to have a wash. With your conclusion in mind you make your way to the en-suite and wash quickly in the basin. Both rooms were large and airy but you knew where everything was, afterall this wasn't your first time in this situation. Waking up in the marital home of Mr. and Mrs Atwood-Cooper. Rising from the bed they shared and eating in the kitchen they decorated together. Though, it gives you some satisfaction that you're screwing his wife while he's out working or with some friends. Finally, all of last nights make up has been successfully lost down the plug hole and you look at yourself in the mirror. You don't always like the person looking back but you can doubt the qualities of your own face. You are a good looking woman and you've been told that on countless occasions. At twenty-two years old you had been through your fair share of heartbreak, once at seventeen by the woman in the other room, but you got over it. You moved back to LA, got a business degree and eventually found yourself back in Newport and owning the Bait Shop. Yes, you didn't just manage it, the whole damn place was yours to do how you pleased. You hired some good-looking teenagers to do the dirty work while you played away with the bad boy of Newport's wife. It was good.
Walking back into the bedroom you notice she has moved, probably waking up, and you move to her make up table. Carefully choosing the mascara, eye-liner and shadow you are going to use; she's rich so she wont miss them. You apply them carefully and note the moving and slight groaning of a waking Marissa behind you. Instead of acknowledging her you simply brush your blonde hair, making sure that your purple streak (that you worked hard on getting the right shade) is showing just perfectly and shaping your face. You don't always like to look great in the morning, but if anyone saw you leaving the household you have to look the part of the best friend, not the lover. Your eyes glance down the mirror and you give yourself the twice-over on your appearance, you have that after-glow from sex the night before but nobody would know any different. Your Alex Kelly afterall.
The sheets are on the floor now and you know the brunette you have fallen in love with has awoken and without a word left the room to get dressed. It wasn't always this way, you remember, it was civil and fun but now it was sordid and sometimes dark. You tell her she must care on a certain level for you, afterall everytime you sleep with her she takes her wedding ring off, but deep down you know you're just a device for her to get pleasure out of and remove her pain. Not that you mind; any chance you can get to hold Marissa Atwood-Cooper you jump at. You're still not sure what it is you see in her, yes she is very attractive and money would never be a problem, but she always has a drama and she never shows you love outside of the bedroom door. To her, you're just a friend with benefits and though that suits you both fine, you often find yourself wishing for more. To have her as your own and never let go. You know you would treat her better than Ryan but she never gave you the chance. You smirk at your reflection; it was a good job you could be a cold-hearted bitch when you wanted to be, because if you broke down and told her how you felt, you would probably push her over the edge you were both balancing on.
"Alex?" Why did she sound like she was upset? Didn't you give her what she wanted? You don't turn to her, instead choosing to rifle through her lip-gloss collection. You smile at the flavors, familiar with them all. Her hand is on your shoulder now and you feel it penetrate your body, so you turn around, you know you're under her spell.
"Yes, Mrs. Atwood. How can I help?" The bitterness in your voice has gotten better. It took time to develop it to that stage and you know it's only a defence mechanism to hide your true feelings, but the flick of hurt in her eyes makes it worth it. Maybe now she knew a tenth of what you feel everyday. She bit her lip and you can almost taste the lingering flavored lip-gloss on them, you can't remember which one it was last night.
"Don't call me that, Alex; you know I don't like it." Her hand comes off your shoulder and you feel lost for a second. Only a second. You have the rest of the day to miss her; right now you had to hold your image strong. You shrug.
"Fine. Marissa." You drag her name out, biting the syllables and smirking at the coldness of your voice. God, you're good. "What do you want?" You don't really know why you put up a barrier between you and her everytime you sleep with her. The night before you had been so free, so in love and now you were pushing her away with both hands and not gripping on to save her. You were stronger than feelings though, feelings didn't get you anywhere in life they just stopped you.
"Why do you always leave? Can't you stay with me for breakfast?" You would scoff at the statement if a fresh film of tears didn't coat her eyes. You would laugh in her face and call her pathetic if you didn't notice how everything on her body was shaking as she was fighting urges she didn't quite understand. How could you be so cold to this woman? You pause, oh yeah; she broke your heart.
"No." Your answer was simple and to the point but you didn't make eye contact. If you did you would kiss her and if you kissed her Ryan would find her and his wife in a very compromising position. "Ryan will be home soon." Moving past her you collect your bag from the floor and make sure everything is in there. Phone, keys and a picture of you and Marissa she will never get to see. That's everything.
"Not until tomorrow. Please stay, I hate watching you go." You always knew one of these days you would crack and the anger would wash over you, the hurt would make itself known, what you didn't know was that it was going to be this morning.
"And I hate being in love with somebody else's wife." You turn to her and see the shock in her eyes. Her thin hand covers her mouth and she takes a step back. Yes, you had just admitted you loved her something you vowed never to do because it would kill you but the look on her face made it worth it. She had no idea what she did to you. She had no idea it took you hours and hours to get to sleep because you would lie awake and think about the conversations you had in the past. She had no idea you kept pictures of her just to hold onto something. She had no idea that everytime you left hers and Ryan's house you would feel like breaking down and crying for hours in your car because she wasn't yours. She just had no idea.
"You, Alex, you're in love with me?" She was disbelieving and you can't blame her. Afterall every morning you were a stone cold bitch to her and you pushed her away, or you just left while she was asleep, and you continued like nothing had changed. To be told that the new unfeeling you actually loved someone must have shocked her. Too bad it didn't hurt. You shrug as if you don't care and nod to confirm what you said was true.
"But it dosen't stop me leaving." You walk towards the door, that heavy feeling on your heart and your stomach doing U-turns and flips. You didn't let it show on the outside that on the inside you were dying slowly. A hand on your arm stopped you and you glared into the eyes on the woman that brought down your walls, just to break your heart and force you to build them thicker and taller.
"I love you, too." She was looking into your eyes and you knew there was partial truth to it, but she didn't love you enough.
"No. You love what I can give you, a chance to be free and be the real you." You pull your arm away and her eyes flicker shut. Now she was hurting and even though you wanted her to hurt for such a long time; this wasn't the great satisfaction you hoped for. Instead of grinning like a mad woman you pulled her into a short hug. "You don't love me enough to believe you, Marissa." Your whisper goes into her hair and you wonder for a second in silence if she actually heard you. Then you heard it, something so soft that you could have missed it by breathing, she was crying. You made her cry; well done.
"I don't know what to do." Her head lay on your shoulder and though you were shorter than her you supported her weight. "I love you but I can't leave Ryan. It would kill him, he'd go into meltdown and everything he had worked for would be for nothing. Without you though I feel empty. Why do you think I spend so much time at the Bait Shop?" You sigh and rub her back. The last time she got like this was the first night you spent together and you left right after, you didn't even stay the night. That was seven months ago.
"Then the best thing for you to do is stay with Ryan. It's predictable and boring but you know where you stand. With me it would be new and strange and for somebody like you, it would be right. Imagine, a Newport girl was actually into girls." Spite hit your voice at the last part. Most people around here were so far up their own asses they probably wouldn't give a second glance to somebody's sexuality, but they would feel the right to bitch about it. Her fingers gripped onto your shirt like she was grasping for you to stay, you know you couldn't though; if you stayed you would never leave.
"Why are you telling me this if you love me?" She seemed angry now. God, this girl had more emotions that a collective PMS society.
"It's because I love you I'm telling you to be with him. He can make you happy." She pulls away from you and you're not too sure what is going to happen next. Will she slap you? Kiss you? Tell you to get out?
"Only you can do that but you never stay around to show me what it means to be happy." You watch as she runs her hand through her hair and you send her a bitter-sweet half smile. This girl probably did love you but she was too proud to give up her lifestyle for you.
"If I stay I'll never want to go. You have your life and I have mine; you could never give this up to live with a woman and tell the world how you feel. I get that." You don't really. If you loved someone you would shout it from the rooftops, you would shout about Marissa if it wasn't for the fear you would end up being rejected.
"Give me time and I would give it up." It was a whisper but you caught it. You give her a chaste kiss on the cheek and instead of replying you walk to the bedroom door and put your hand on it.
"If you need me you have my number." You open the door and step into the hallway. You're stopped once more by an action of Marissa, this time her hand on the door preventing you from shutting it.
"Why do you always come back if you never stay?" A tear is halfway down her cheek and you hope her mascara is as waterproof as your feelings.
"Because I never learn any better." Instead of shutting the door as planned you let her hold onto it. You walk downstairs and breath deeply ignoring the soft crying you can hear from the bedroom on the right at the top of the stairs. You resist the urge to run back up and hold her in your arms, to tell her it will be okay. Instead you walk outside, get into your Jeep and drive away. If she needs you, she'll call.
What do you think?