forty five

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"Two damaged people trying to heal each other is love."

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I woke up the next morning, tangled in the white sheets and no one next to me. Carl had gotten up, and I could hear the shower running.

'Carl,' I thought. His name rushed through my head as I thought back to last night and what had happened.

Sitting up, I threw on a pair of underwear and a large tee shirt. I clambered down the stairs, and my feet landed on the hardwood floor with a thud.

"Morning," I heard Michonne mumble from the kitchen.

"Hi," I tiredly greeted as I sat at the counter on a barstool.

"How'd you sleep?" She asked as she set a bowl of cereal in front of me.

"Good," I muttered with a mouth full of breakfast.

"Why're you so tired?" She questioned, sending me a mischievous look.

My head shot up, and my eyes darted around the room.

"No reason," I hastily spoke, obviously sounding suspicious.

"Mhm," she hummed, not believing a word I had said.

"I'm, uh, gonna go get dressed," I rushed out, dropping my spoon back in the bowl and running up the stairs.

I reached my room and quickly closed the door behind me.

"She knows," I whispered, walking up to a shirtless Carl.

"What?" He cluelessly questioned.

"She knows what we did last night," I explained, pulling on a pair of skinny jeans and a bra.

"How would she? They were asleep anyway," he furrowed his brows and threw on a shirt.

"She just did," I insisted, pulling a tank top over my head, along with a flannel.

"We're teenagers; it was gonna happen sometime," he calmly said.

"Yeah, I guess," I mumbled, making my way to the bathroom.

I brushed my teeth and hair, throwing it up into a ponytail, and not forgetting to apply deodorant.

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