DISCLAIMER: I was up until 9 a.m. this morning, and lack of sleep can cause me to do some crazy things. Not sure where I'm going with this, if anywhere. It'll depend on your reactions I suppose. I struggled with staying in character, though someone reminded me that we don't know what Rory will be like in a few years. Though I don't use names in this, I'm sure you're smart enough to figure it out.
The figure stirred behind her, further awakening her out of her drowsy state. She squinted her eyes a bit, already feeling the pangs of the morning after headache set in. She was certain she should have stopped after that second drink. But like she had done several times before, she overstepped the bounds she had vowed again to uphold. It was always the case when she was nervous. And he, unlike any other person on the planet, could make her nervous.
She felt him turn on his side, and in seconds, her waist was draped with a bare, muscled arm. She closed her eyes tight, hoping on some level that this was all a dream. Wishing as she counted to ten that the previous night would disappear from her memory. She allowed her mind to float back to the past, certain that she could change the outcome if she concentrated hard enough. She was standing in her apt, getting ready to go out with her roommate. Kelly had asked her to do her this one favor and accompany her to this party. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a basic Harvard student's party. She had done so several times before. Kelly, like she, was never the aggressive coed. They relied on each other for support and were never quite as open as they were when they were out together. And last night should have been routine. She slowly opened her eyes looking down to her waist. The arm was still there. She sighed heavily, the arm tightening slightly at her actions.
Delicately lifting the arm from her waist, she managed to bring herself to a seated position. She placed a hand gingerly on her forehead as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. This was going to be one hell of a hangover. Shoving the sheets back from her bare legs, she mentally processed their dark navy color. Definitely a male's bed. Taking a quick glance around the room, she realized that she had never been there before, yet oddly, something about the room seemed familiar. Something about him was familiar. The queen sized bed was covered in navy sheets and a matching comforter, lacking the dozens of pillows that would generally adorn a woman's bed. She reached for her shirt on the floor, quickly throwing it over her head and pulling her loose brown hair through the collar.
She stood slowly and looked around the room. The temperature in the room was chilly and she shivered slightly at the cold air hitting her bare legs. In the corner of the room along the far wall, she noticed a door cracked to what she assumed was a small bathroom. Taking the few steps across the carpet, she stepped into the small room, the cold tile on her bare feet intensifying the goose bumps standing on her arms and legs. Turning around she could see his outline on the bed and the indentation of her form on the mattress right beside him. He once again stirred and she paused to take in his form before silently closing the door and shutting herself into the solitude of those four walls.
She flipped the switch on the wall, casting shards of light that pierced the fogginess of her mind. She cringed at it's brightness, willing herself to withstand the onslaught of pain through her temples. Glancing around the room, she noticed a startling fact. It was neat to the point of perfection. The organization startled her a bit. It was unlike any college student to keep a bathroom this neat, let alone a student of the male gender. She expected to see towels crumpled on the floor and discarded clothing in the corner. Instead she was greeted with short, navy hand towels that matched the shower curtain exactly. He had lined them up so that the edges hung at the exact same length. The cleanliness made her a bit uneasy. She reached up pushing one of the towels so that it's back half hung two inches lower than the front. The move gave her little satisfaction, but in her state, a little was all she needed.
She glanced at the counter again recognizing again the small touches of a guy's bathroom. An electric razor sat in it's cradle along the back edge of the sink, the straight edge of the charger perpendicular to the line of the counter. The soap dispenser and toothbrush holder stood at attention next to it. The thought occurred to her that either this guy was obsessively neat, or he kept it this immaculate because he was always having women over. That visual caused her stomach to turn. Pushing the thought from her mind, she turned on the faucet and ran her fingers underneath the water waiting for it to get warm.
She twisted her hair into a knot, tying it over itself in a trick she picked up from her mother. As her fingers brushed against her scalp, flashes of the night before entered her mind. He was brushing the hair behind her ear saying something that invariably made her smile. And later, running his fingertips through the length, grasping at the back of her neck as he pulled her closer and molded her to his body.
She ran her hands under the water, cupping them to retain it in her hands. Lowering her head, she proceeded to splash her face with the cleansing liquid. Cleansing away the hundreds of kisses he had placed on her lips, still slightly swollen from his intense kisses. Grabbing for the nearest towel, she patted her face dry, and hung the towel back in it's place.
Out of curiosity, she opened the medicine cabinet. Her mother had taught her many things throughout her short life. And regrettably, her nosiness was one of the most prominent of her inherited traits. She rummaged through the cabinet finding nothing out of the ordinary to spark her interest. There was a bottle of aspirin, a tube of toothpaste, some hair gel and the like. And then it occurred to her that something was missing.
Her stomach turned over on itself again as she half sat, half collapsed onto the closed toilet. For the life of her she couldn't remember if they had used anything last night. She lowered her head, bracing her elbows on her knees as she held her hanging head. When had she become so stupid? There were many things she had hoped to accomplish at Harvard. Having a one night stand was not one of them. She was inexperienced when it came to sex. She had dated Dean for a year and a half before they even considered moving that far. Her other boyfriends had also respected the fact that it took her a bit longer to reach that point.
He, on the other hand, was not as naive. If she hadn't remembered the legendary stories from high school, she definitely would have known after last night. He definitely had had some practice in this department.
She tried to decipher the emotions running through her mind and those tugging at her heart. She tried to make herself believe that one of those was regret, but as the effects of the alcohol faded, so did her ability to convince her self of a lie.
He had caught her off guard. Walked through the door at the party with that familiar swagger, and hit her upside the head like a two by four. He had taken a few steps backward when he first saw her and she registered the surprise on his face before he quickly masked it with that infuriating smirk. She wasn't sure why she was so shocked to see him there. She new that he had too chosen to go to Harvard, but she had yet to encounter him anywhere within the last few years. She had heard rumblings from Paris that he was studying pre-med. A family tradition. And her literary heavy schedule did not take her into the realms of science at the institution. She had read his name a few times in the school paper, raving about his conquests on the soccer field. She swore to herself that she would make it to a game, but the ever-increasing load of a college schedule had done nothing but make her more reclusive with studying. They had yet to cross paths and seeing him again blindsided her.
They had always had an unusual relationship. And their actions last night only served to complicate things. Six years ago he walked into her life and turned it upside down. He was the rumble that disturbed her daily routine. Over the years he had filled many positions in her life. Enemy. Acquaintance. Friend. Lover.
She fought back the tingling sensation that thought created. Ignoring the way that word simultaneously made her heart skip a beat and her stomach want to vomit.
The years had been good to him. She could admit that. She had last seen him the night of graduation. His father had relented on military school after a year, and he was allowed to return to Chilton for his final year. Allowed. As if he needed permission to waltz back into his domain as if he had never left.
Or a reason to saunter back into her life.
They'd spent many hours together senior year, though she would be the first to point out that it was not by choice. By fate they had been assigned similar schedules, and surviving the accelerated classes required reliance on other classmates. She remembered that she was shocked to find out Chilton even had advanced classes beyond its normal demanding curriculum. She had never thought of him as a brain, but over the next few months he had proven to her that daddy had not just purchased his way into Harvard. Several study sessions and conversations later, she was amazed that she would even call him a friend. They had visited each other's houses for various study sessions, and she prided herself that she was able to chip away at some of his cold exterior.
And last night was as if that exterior never existed. He had kept his distance for a while, she assumed to grasp the reality of her presence. And when he finally approached from behind, his breath ticked her neck as he called her the name she hadn't heard in years. And as it had that last time, when she donned the outfit of Juliet, it brought a smile to her face. She said something witty back, and they fell into the rhythm that was so familiar.
He was different somehow. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something had changed. He had lost most of the cockiness from his teenage years and separation from his overbearing parents had allowed him to grow into himself. He asked about her family and laughed appropriately as she relayed the latest antics of her mother. She would never admit it to him, but her mother had taken a liking to him. For months into her senior year the elder woman had pried and prodded trying to get her to admit that there was something between the two. A gimmick that had failed. Though refraining from saying the words out loud did not quell her mother's insistence that she herself was aware the sexual tension could be cut with a knife. She nervously laughed as she realized there was no tension left to cut. They had obliterated any semblance of tension with their actions last night and skyrocketed to an entirely different level of awkwardness.
She stood slowly, her head again beginning to pound. She made a mental note to remember this exact moment any time she thought of taking another drink. She quietly opened the door back to the bedroom and flipped the light back off. She was glad to see he was still sleeping, his blonde tresses contrasting sharply with the dark pillow. She eased her way over to the bed, grabbing articles of clothing on her way. She gently sat on the edge of the bed and finished dressing so she could slip away.
Busying herself pulling on her shoes, she didn't feel the bed move as he stirred awake. As she leaned back up, she stiffened when she felt his lips on her neck, his warm breath tickling her skin
"Good morning, beautiful." His scratchy voice cutting through the silence of the room.
She closed her eyes tightly fighting back the sensations as he continued his assault on her neck. She knew she needed to leave, but her heart was telling her to stay. Had they been at her place she would have expected him to disappear into the night. But since they had retreated to his place, she was hoping she would be the one to leave unnoticed.
She wasn't certain what his early morning affections meant, and she definitely wasn't prepared to interpret what she hoped they meant. She was going to need time to process it all. And clear thinking was not going to emerge from this headache. Nor could she make a proper judgment while enduring the intimate contact he continued to administer.
Without warning she stood from the bed, grabbing her handbag from the floor. She mumbled something about needing to leave, not able to bring herself to face him knowing the shock her actions would bring. She expected him to protest and when he did not, she proceeded to the doorway. She was never a fan of awkward silence, and her instinct to ramble was pushing to the front. She felt like she should say 'thank you', realizing that such a remark would sound childish and was entirely inappropriate. So without a word she opened the door and slipped out.
She half ran down the hallway, frantically searching for the exit from his apartment, lest he follow her down the hall. She feared that he would change his mind and ask her to stay. And she further feared that she would agree to his request. She stumbled into the living room and was greeted by his roommate sitting on the couch with a book on his lap. Something she would have been doing if last night had never happened.
She felt him give her the once over but didn't stop to notice his inquisitive look. She was ashamed that he encountered her like this, realizing she was probably not the first girl to emerge disheveled from his room in the early morning. She was most likely another notch in the proverbial belt, and being tagged as such by a complete stranger was unnerving. At that sickening feeling, she quickened her pace, throwing open the door and finding release from the suffocating, caged atmosphere as she passed into the brisk air.