Tattooed On You

IX: Blueberries

The next morning I wake up with a deadly dry mouth, and an even deadlier headache, and the huge urge to throw the warm, lazy, and heavy body off of me before even opening my eyes.

I should've kicked her out after I came back to my room.

I turn over, successfully rolling Tiana off of me too, and in response, she sighs and whimpers. It's insane how those things never really irritated me as much as they do now.

When I open my eyes and they have adjusted to the light somewhat, I grab my phone. Ironically enough, the first thing I see when I unlock the screen is my chat conversation with Jo.

The last text is still the one from last night, when she was in her room and I was downstairs. When I got back to bed after I'd met her in the restroom, I spend at least twenty minutes looking at it, waiting, and maybe even hoping for some kind of text from her.

But there was nothing, even though I did see she was online a few times. And being as fucking stubborn as I am, I didn't reach out either.

Partly because I'm not going to give in first, but mostly because I had no fucking clue on what to text her. All the things I wanted to say, were said in that tiny restroom after she came, and it eventually didn't end well.

I throw my phone next to me on the mattress and then roll to my back once more, closing my eyes and recalling the events of last night properly. Now that I'm sober, I completely understand how Jo muttered what a fucking mess we were after she came.

I fucked T while she watched. And then, I watched her make herself come while Tiana was still in my bed and color book was in hers. And I feel fucking ecstatic because of it.

She looked damn fine, her cheeks flushed and her body strong and confident while her whimpers were soft as hell. Pure and naughty, in a perfect combination.

But when that haze winded down, she closed completely, backing away from me as far as she could while telling me how sick and twisted this whole thing is.

How she doesn't understand me. How she hates how I make her feel. How she tries so hard not to give in because she knows it'll eventually cost her more than it will cost me.

To be honest, it's all a bit of a puddle still, but I do know that all the things she ranted about, were because of a fear that she has. It has to be.

Or maybe it's mine that I'm desperately trying to imprint on her.

What kind of fear and why it's there? No fucking clue, but the fact that she is fighting me this hard, makes me realize that there is way more to Josephine and her teasing than I'd originally thought.

It stings though, the fact that she doesn't have a problem with fucking a twit at work while you would think that's just as problematic. She gave me some weak excuse about me being her roommate regarding that, but given what'd happened minutes prior, I'd say that's irrelevant the moment she creamed her knickers.

When I called her out on that, she got even angrier, and she then rushed past me and bounced up the stairs, to him. Without looking back, without even as much as a thank you and good night.

And I don't get it. I seriously don't. I've never not done anything -or anyone- that I wanted because I was scared. Temptation shouldn't be shut down, and I'm a firm believer in taking what you want or what you can get.

Maybe that's my problem, but up until now, it hasn't blown in my face.

Besides, I can't imagine that the tension between us is making it comfortable for her to live here. Fucking Christ, it isn't comfortable for me either.