It's Never Just Goodbye // Ed Sheeran

Let's Try This One More Time

Ed

When I open my eyes, I'm hit with the fact that I'm in bed with the girl I met last night. It was another night I spent down at a bar in Manhattan after flying here a few days before after the festival. Feeling defeated, I spent my nights chatting up people interested in being musicians, and pretty ladies that liked listening to my own music.

Last night was the first night I had brought someone back to my suite. It was the first time I fell asleep next to a beautiful woman without seducing her in the messiest, fastest way possible. We hadn't even gotten our clothes off in time before the two of us passed out from the endless conversation that started at the restaurant she worked at.

I had already had three Roman cokes when I had asked the waiter to get the chef for me. After smoking a little pot in the alley an hour before, the first time I smoked in what seemed like forever, the food had tasted angelic to me. And I felt the need to praise the person who made.

She just happened to be an interesting, gorgeous woman who got off work in ten minutes. It was only necessary for her to come to my table after she got off and chat with me. And it was only a matter of time before I asked her to take me sightseeing in the place she's lived for years.

"I've lived in Manhattan for a while now." She explained in cab while we were stuck in traffic the busy Friday night. "I sometimes fly out to London and work in a restaurant there. I used to work there back when I lived there, and they are so sweet to have me back sometimes."

She told the driver where to take us and showed me all the fond things of New York I've already seen, a thousand times before, in the dark. And she didn't mind much when I told the driver to swing by my hotel. She just continued to talk about everything on her mind as she followed me through the revolving doors.

She had told me in the hallway of my hotel that she used to live down the street from me when I had my old flat in London when I had first moved there. She said that she'd sometimes see me playing guitar outside of the train station with my guitar case open as people threw coins in.

"I don't remember you..." I state, shaking my head in dismay.

"Why would you? I think I threw a dollar in once, but that was so long ago..."

She made herself at home in my small suite. With her excellence in the kitchen, she made me run down to the liquor store on the corner to pick up a bag of popcorn and cookie dough, so she could make some for us. The smell of the cookies flooded the room and I had hoped that it would stay long after she had gone.

We stayed up late together that night. She didn't plan on staying the night, and she didn't expect me to invite her back to the room for wine, but she took is easily. It just so happened that we crashed with half eaten cookies at the end of the bed and reruns of Greys Anatomy playing quietly on the TV.

She slept very carelessly. Her body spread out and the comforter kicked off the king sized bed. The cookies from the night before were in bits all over the carpet. She must've felt restricted in the middle of the night and slipped out of her constricting black jeans and tossed them to the floor. Her work shirt, a black button down, remained on her chest and slipped up above her belly button. Her long, silky brown hair tangled itself through her fitful sleep and laid messily across the silk pillowcase.

I had awoken the next morning fearing that I drunkenly messed around with someone else, but was instantly reminded that everything was innocent. I didn't want this to be another thing that's going to make me feel like the fool I am.

I had rolled out of bed as I desperately tried not to wake her. She must not be a heavy sleeper because her snoring ceased and her head shot up. The Greek beauty glanced over at me and shot me an easy, tired smile.