Claws and Fangs

Calm Before and After

Let me tell you, sex is pretty great, but the emotional part is just as confusing as everyone says.

When I wake up in the morning, Mark isn't there, and I'm sort of glad. I'm still a little achy and worn out from last night and I don't want to deal with the whole mess of "what now" right away. I swipe my dress off the floor and put it on to cover my nakedness and the remaining mess of last night. Suffice it to say that I'm not getting pregnant any time soon, but the proof of that is still clinging to my skin.

The guard takes me to the bath and assures me that there will be more casual clothes waiting when I'm done. I take it as a sign that she's warming up to me.

While I soak and use a cloth to clean myself, it hits me. I had sex with Mark. I only just realized I might be interested in him, only just figured out that I wanted to kiss him, and then there we were. I didn't even think twice. A sort of hopeful dread fills my stomach -- hope and dread together, is that even possible? Is Mark worrying like this? Probably not, he's done this kind of thing before. Plus he's a guy, and isn't it supposed to be different for the guy? Less scary?

I dress slowly, discovering a deep purple hickey on my thigh that makes me blush. At least I know it wasn't in my head, and as I recall that little lovebite felt pretty damn good when he was giving it. I won't give away the details, but Mark is very good at using his mouth.

That tears it. I have to find Mark now. I finish in the bathroom and Nearly force my guide to jog back to the room with me, and there he is, in fresh clothes as well with his hair nearly dry.

"Hey," I breathe.

"Hi, Mona, did you sleep well?"

I smile and nod. "Yes I did, thanks." Finally I notice what he's doing, gathering the handful of things he brought from Eclipse. "What are you doing?" I try to make it sound light, like "what are you up to?", but it comes out more like an accusation.

"I'm getting my stuff together. This room is kind of small for both of us, so I asked Hestia to move me somewhere else. Now you can sleep on the bed instead of a cot."

Wait, what?

"The bed? The bed is big enough for both of us, Mark --" I break off. "Is this because of last night? Did I do something wrong?"

Mark pauses and turns, suddenly very interested in his feet. "No, no, you were great, last night was great, nothing like that."

"Then why do you want a different room?"

Mark picks one of my hands up and holds it loosely, finally making eye contact. "We can't be together, Mona. I thought you knew that... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it seem like more than sex. I hope I didn't upset you too much."

He lets my hand drop limply at my side, picks up his bag, and leaves. I sit on the chair where I first realized I had feelings for him, and all of a sudden I'm crying. Which is ridiculous. I didn't cry for the first week after my family was killed, and then only for a moment. I didn't cry when I broke my ankle in a foxhole and had to stay hidden for two weeks while it healed, nearly starving in the process. I may have fainted, but I didn't cry when I discovered my mom ran away and left me for dead without bothering to look for me. And yet, here I am, crying because some boy doesn't like me. As if he's special. As if what will probably be the worst sex of my life (beginners can't be choosers) was special.

Finally enough is enough. I can't wallow in self pity forever. I wait for the tears to stop and then for the puffy feeling around my eyes to go away so I look normal. That done, I pull myself together and find the guard leaning against the wall with her eyes closed.