The morning after O;
#.
I wake with a startle. I frown. Where the hell am I?
I'm not in my paid for room with Alice and Rosalie snoring lightly in the adjoining rooms. No.
Instead, I'm in a strange man's bed, curled around him like a clingy whore.
Jesus Christ.
Sure, the man is beautiful, an Adonis, indescribable.
It hits me with an inaudible thud as images rush through me. Images of his hands, limbs, mouth, lips on me.
Hell, Swan, that wasn't a dream!
I'm screwed. Or was
Hastily, I clamber up, grabbing my clothes and pulling them on me as I rush to find my purse, one thought resounding around my head.
I need to get out. I need to get out. I need to get out.
In five minutes, I'm at the door. I pause and glance at Edward wistfully as I notice his sleeping form. His mouth is partially open, his eyelashes are fanned out on his cheeks creating a shadow. It's beautiful. I blink with each breath he takes and sigh deeply.
I'm screwed.
Deep breaths.
"Goodbye Edward."
And then I leave, a beautiful, unconcious man and my soul behind me.