Yes Please || c.g. {complete}

Aftermath

23

.Carl.

When I woke up then next morning, I could feel her body beneath me, and I quickly realized that my normal morning wood was inside her.

Fuck, I realized, carefully sliding out of her. Even though she had asked me not to pull out of her last night, this just felt too weird after hearing her story last night. I felt creepy. I couldn't shake the image of that degenerate on top of her unconscious body.

I rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed, my elbows resting on my knees and my head in my hands. I hadn't wanted us to have sex last night. I mean, of course I wanted her, but not when she was so vulnerable after rehashing the account of her rape. When I was vulnerable from listening to it and picturing someone violating her like that. I felt that to mess around so soon after made me a fucking creep. I would have done anything for her though, and she wanted me.

I shivered as that phrase went through my mind, as it quickly morphed into Damian's "you wanted it."

"Fuck," I whisper-growled, my fists balling around chunks of my hair. I had to fucking do something. I had to get out and go for a run. I texted Ian.

Hey man, u up for a run?

U read my mind...tying my shoes rn.
U ok?

Yeah.
Idk.

I'll jog over. Text me the address.

I quickly got up to brush my teeth and get dressed. I found my running shoes and sat to tie them next to the dogs on the couch. I reached over and pet them both gently. Lenny grumbled and Sunny sighed, but neither of them moved. They'd been out at like three in the morning; they would be okay until I got back. I walked back into the bedroom and wrote a quick note on the back of a receipt, leaving it on Layla's phone. I slipped out of the apartment and ran down the steps.

The fresh air felt good as I opened the door to the sidewalk.

"Hey, man," Ian nodded from his perch against the brick wall a few feet away.

"What's up," I replied with a nod.

The two of us began to jog down the sidewalk without another word.

"Busy on the job last night," Ian said after a mile or so, referring to his job as an EMT. "Lots of dumbasses blowing their fingers off and sticking firecrackers in their asses."

I smiled, shaking my head.

"Ah, there's something," Ian grinned back. "So you are in there."

My smile faded as I continued to stare ahead.

"What's wrong, bud?" Ian asked, alternating his gaze between me and the path ahead him.

I didn't know how to say it. I was suddenly afraid to bring it up, even though I knew that's why I had texted Ian in the first place.

"Carl? What is it?" he tried again.

"Layla was raped," I blurted. Fuck, that was a shitty thing to hear myself say.

"What?" Ian cried. "When? Is she okay? Jesus Christ, man!"

I shook my head. "It was last year at college," I clarified.

"And she just told you about it, I'm guessing," Ian surmised.

"We were at a party with her friends last night," I began, pausing to take some deep breaths as I jogged. "And there's this guy there who is clearly making her uncomfortable." More deep breaths. "He's talking about her- all filthy and shit. Her other friends gave her a hard time, but not like this asshole."