When I woke in Coles bed, naked and the sheets ruffled next to me - still warm from where he'd been spooning me, I nearly screamed at how it'd hadn't been a dream after all.
I stood in the shower, cold water pouring down over me as I tried to understand what the hell I had done.
It's been a long time, Flo. Can you even remember the last time you'd been kissed?
The shower didn't help. I'd started crying, panicking like I had when I'd freaked out at The Blue Chicken. I stood in front of the mirror, crying over how I'd been littered with love bites, love bites from a man I thought I'd just been best friends with. Not even crushing on.
I tried to get brave. To be able to leave the bathroom, to do something, maybe to face him and talk about what happened, maybe question how large of a glass of wine I'd had, or even do the cowardly thing and run.
Being brave failed miserably when I put my hands on the counter to ground myself and all I thought about was how he'd laughed the night before when I'd leaned back to help him -
I needed out of that house, and immediately before I'd have a full meltdown and be a complete wreck.
A wreck like last time - the time I blew up my own fucking life. I was not going to let that happen again.
I went to my room, and I grabbed my essentials and shoved them in my purse, just grasping at whatever I could get and threw it in. I put on my most comfortable jeans and a shirt, figuring id just go straight to work even though I had the day off.
How could you do this? You're that desperate that you ruined your friendship?
Tears bubbled as I was trying to quietly go down the stairs, figuring he might just be heading out for the day and wouldn't notice me if I was quiet enough. I'd hurt him and I, and Cole had been all I had. He'd been my best friend. He'd been my roommate, and even my supporter.
Id ruined it for sex. For a fix. To be held and and-
Coles voice bellowed from the kitchen where he was making poorly done pancakes. He'd been in boxers and the shirt of his I remembered leaving behind in the kitchen. His hair was wild, and he looked warm.
He looked so cinnamon roll coded - so sweet and soft, something comfortable. He was exactly what I needed and exactly what I had to get away from.
"Go back to bed, I'm making us a surprise. We can eat and watch-" he turned half way through his smiley sentence about eating pancakes and watching our show.
The smile fell. It fell hard at the sight of me dressed, and trying to not cry as I held onto my purse tightly on my shoulder. A pancake flopped to the floor as he lowered his spatula, frowning at me. At my running away.
"Oh," was all he said. Maybe all he wanted to say.
"I'm sorry, I-i-" I tried to get the words out, and it was happening, I was having a melt down, and I had promised myself I wouldn't do that again.
Tears gushed from my eyes, and I bolted for the door, barely making it while scooping my shoes.
All I heard before I shut the door behind me was: "Let me try and fix this,"
I was a cook. He was a contractor. I made things, whipped them out of nothing. He fixed things, made things better and brighter. Of course he'd wanted to fix it, and I had wanted to throw it away.
I went to the restaurant. I didn't even go in, but Mary saw me in the parking lot. She came and knocked on my window - seeing how I'd been in distress. I couldn't get any words out, I was just crying. She managed to get me into her and Kelces car, and she took me to their place.
