Lustily

Chapter nine.

After our little coffee "date", James asked me for my number so we could text and meet up another time. I was a bit reluctant but did it anyway, because he did that fucking grin that made my legs go weak again, so I would either just give him my number and get a grip or fall on the ground due to my jelly legs, because I can't control myself around that stupid dimple. Then the only thing I would be gripping is that damned table, as I'm trying to stable myself, and not focus on his face. Pathetic.  But I was distracted, which was the whole point. So it appears "Mr. Dimple" did his job.
Props to him. So I walked, with a weird feeling in my stomach, that same unknown tickling feeling in my stomach from earlier.
My mind was filled with thoughts of James and that stupid one dimple. And his cloudy gray eyes, that was always locked on mine. Maybe my conscious was right, as usual.  James was one fine specimen of man. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? Well, I guess I'm not a robot after all, I think my hormones were just a little late, because I knew for a fact I was very much attracted to the grayed and dimple.

When I finally made it home, all my feelings from this morning came crashing into me as I walked into my bedroom. My bed was unmade due the thrashing and kicking of my nightmare, the blankets and pillows were all over the floor, and my bedsheets had huge tears stains planted all over it. My room was a complete mess. And the thoughts of my previous nightmare, clouded my mind. At least Mr. Dimple made me forget for a few hours. I thought. But that didn't make it feel better all it did was hit even harder, because I was actually in a "good" mood. As good as it gets for me, but now, what do I do now? Maybe I should just leave and go back out and deal with it later, or stop being a coward and face it head on. Make up my damn bed, clean up my room and pray that I don't have a repeat of last night. Simple enough.
I walked  over to my bed and took off the tear stained sheets. I had a few more in my closet, so that would be a quick replacement. I walked to my closet and grabbed some new clean black sheets and walked back to my room, putting it on and smoothing it out, so no wrinkles could be seen. Then I grabbed my big, puffy gray blanket and throw it over the sheets, then getting the wrinkles out of it as I did my sheets, then grabbing my non tear stained pillows and placing them on the bed too.
Bed? Done!
I wanted to do a little. Victory dance but then I realized when do I ever fucking dance, let alone have the talent. So I saved myself the criticism of my conscious when she would see a feeble attempt of doing the messed up version of the tootsie roll. Seriously, who even does that anymore? So I settled for the mental pat on the back, and continued to be clean up my room. I vacuumed up literally nothing, because I'm not that much of slob who leaves crumbs and other food things all on the floor, but the very annoying vacuum noise annoyed me till the point it was the only thing that consumed my thoughts. Which was also a good thing. Another mental pat on the back.
After about an hour of cleaning nothing I decided that I was a bit fatigued. But the thought of sleeping after the night I had sounded awful. But what other choice did I have? I couldn't keep running. Well, I could. But that is what a coward would do, and though I used Mr. Dimple as a distraction for a few hours, that should be enough cowardliness for the day. Right? Yes, so does that mean I'm going to go take a nap? Yes. Because I am not a coward. At least not all the time.