Even If It Hurts -H.S. AU

H- 3

I slowly blink my eyes open and run my hand over my face, trying to fight the impending headache that I know is inevitable.

I stretch and shift a little, but freeze when I feel a leg thrown over my own, hindering my movements. I turn my head to the side and I'm met with tired eyes and a soft smile.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

I throw her leg off of me and stand up, finding my pants on the floor and pull them up my legs.

"What are you still doing here?" I ask coldly and watch her expression change.

"I thought we could have breakfast- or something, I don't know." She mumbles and sits up on the bed, pulling the covers up around herself.

"You don't remember me specifically telling you this wasn't a sleepover?" I throw my undershirt back on and drape my button up over my arm. I spot her dress slung over the back of the headboard and toss it to her.

"Well, yeah, but you fell asleep, so I thought-"

"You thought what?" I cock an eyebrow at her and smirk. I'm being mean and I know it, but I can't stop now. "You thought I'd wake up, realize it wasn't just a random fuck, and we'd fall in love?"

"What is wrong with you?!" She yells, hurt clear in her voice as she stands up from the bed. I turn my eyes away from her naked body as she pulls her dress over her head.

"A lot, Amber, that's why I didn't want you to stay."

"My name is Amanda, you fucking prick." She chucks a pillow right at my head, with wicked good aim, but I catch it before it hits me.

Tears form in her eyes when she grabs her purse and heels from last night, not bothering to put them on, before she slams the hotel room door shut.

I know her name. Of course, I know her fucking name. I've just found that if you remember even the smallest thing about the woman you've hooked up with, she gets too attached. Starts calling or showing up at the places you frequent, so, it's easier to pretend that I don't even know something as simple as her name. It's easier for both of us that way.

I'm a fucking asshole, I know.

Once I'm sure she's left, and not coming back, I strip the sheets off the bed and leave them in a pile near the headboard. I pick up the rest of my clothes from the ground and set them on the desk before I grab the trash can to clean up the empty bottles that litter the room. I set the glasses in the sink, one with pink lipstick stains on the rim, and leave two one hundred dollar bills on the nightstand for the cleaning crew.

I open the door to leave, but poke my head out cautiously first, making sure she isn't waiting in the hallway to ambush me. Which, would be deserved.

When I see the coast is clear, I shut the door behind me and walk to the elevator at the end of the corridor. I step inside and enter my code on the keypad and click the P button. I lean against the wall as the elevator takes me up another fifteen flights to the very top of the building. When it dings and the doors open, I dig my keys out of my pocket and unlock my door.

I shuffle inside and shut it tightly behind me, leaving my keys and wallet on the table in the entryway. The light is pouring in the windows that line the far wall, overlooking a portion of the park, which normally I appreciate. This morning, however, it causes me pain. The throbbing in my head is getting worse and I pick up one of the remotes, hitting the button that controls the shutters.

Once it's dark, I head into the kitchen to grab some water and a painkiller. I down the entire glass immediately with the pills and silently scold myself for drinking so much the night before a massive meeting.