Who You Are

Chapter 12

"Shit," he breathed, lifting his head. "Shit."

Then his body.

He slid out from inside me. Hot moisture trickled between my legs, but it was a struggle to move.

"I'm sorry," he was saying, again and again as he scrambled for his boxers and pulled them on.

My body was liquid heat taking shape, coming together to form an embarrassed mass of skin and bone searching for her shirt.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, head in his hands as he continued to freak the fuck out. "I never—I didn't mean to—"

The wetness between my legs was... I never—with Bryan, I never let him—it was...a different sensation than I was used to, but—

"It's alright. I'm on the pill." I yanked my shirt on, covering my lap with a pillow. My leggings were tossed aside in a heap just out of reach. Underwear, right beside them. Tissues—I couldn't ask him to hand me a few.

I'd clean the mess up later.

"I don't know what I was thinking. I should've—I always—"

"Mark." My cheeks were burning.

I let him. Oh my God. I couldn't think and he—

He shut up.

"Did you not hear me? I'm on the pill." I said it again for myself as much I said it for him.

The relief in his eyes was almost insulting. "You are?"

"Yes." I pressed the pillow against my legs. "Now hand me my clothes."

Stunned silent, Mark reached for my leggings, then, more slowly, my underwear. My bra sat, cups face up, on the floor. Staring at both of us with accusation. He didn't bother grabbing it, and he didn't look at me as he handed me my bunched clothing.

Instead he stood, back to me, grabbed his own shirt, pulled it on. I scrambled to slide my underwear up my legs, then my leggings. He didn't turn around until after I'd grabbed several tissues.

All of it irked.

"Do I need to be worried?" I asked, checking the cushion as surreptitiously as I could. Not that he was looking at me.

His eyes widened. "You just said—"

"Not about that. About...anything else?"

It didn't process right away. But his whole face contorted when it did.

"No," he said, like it should've been obvious. "Do I have anything to be worried about?"

He couldn't be serious. "Of course not! I only just broke up with Bryan."

"Yeah, months ago. Who knows how many—"

He cut himself off.

I stood, my blood boiling. "Go ahead."

Mark shifted on his feet. "I didn't mean—"

"Finish the sentence, Mark."

My fury was unending. A simmering hot pit of it bubbled and boiled over.

"Em, c'mon, don't—"

"Don't what? Don't be mad about where that sentence was going?"

"You just asked me the same thing!"

"With good reason!"

"And how am I supposed to know who you have or haven't slept with?" He asked, snapping back.