Taste Me

6.

When I get home later that night, I pace my apartment; my inability to sleep is the replaying of the fucking horrible shitshow that unfolded just an hour ago.

I don't know how the hell I'm ever supposed to show my face at the restaurant again, much less ever speak to Rocco.

He didn't even fucking come after me and I had to wait for at least half an hour for my Uber to show up.

In my mind, Rocco had plenty of time to chase after me and beg me to stay with him but to my buzzkill chagrin...he didn't.

If I didn't know whether or not Jana truly hated me before. There's most certainly no denying it now.

I shudder as I remember the way her cold, dark eyes gazed through me as if she wanted to literally throw a fucking dagger at me.

I feel like a complete fucking fool. An idiot full of stupidity for even believing a single thing that Rocco said.

I strip down to my underwear and crawl into bed like a worm digging through the moist earth.

I wrap the blankets around my head and cocoon myself into a little protective sack, burrowing deep inside as if my bed can really fucking protect me from the outside world.

I cringe each time I remember how Jana's face looked when she saw my legs spread wide open and Rocco on top of me.

How the fuck did she get in the room anyway? I could have sworn I remember Rocco locking it...

Why would she try to enter without knocking? I know she and Rocco have a history. Perhaps she thought she could get him into bed tonight?

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to distract myself with other thoughts but it's no use. I'm going to have another sleepless night, replaying the nightmare over and over again in my head.

When I wake up again, I can tell it's morning before I even open my eyes. The light spills in like a canopy over the room and usually, there is nothing I love more than the feeling of warm sunshine beaming its way in to welcome a new day.

Only today I'm fucking screaming inside, still reeling from being caught in the act with Rocco.

I pull a robe on, yawn and stretch while I stumble to my kitchen. I put a K-cup into the coffee machine and listen as it makes the satisfying sound of dribbling to my waiting coffee cup.

It's at that moment, that I hear a knock on the door. I have no idea who might be here at this hour, so I look through the peephole and I notice it's Rocco.

He looks like he's carrying a brown bag. I reluctantly open the door, wondering what he's doing here. If he's here to tell me everything is going to be alright, I really could have fucking done without his delay and gotten a decent night's sleep.

I open the door and he smiles brightly. "Good morning," he states in a refreshing tone as if nothing has happened out of the ordinary.

"Hello," I scratch my head and then point to the bag. "What's that?"

He pats its contents. "This, is breakfast," he grins proudly.

I invite him in because he's so fucking cute and any man who wants to cook for me, well let's just say I won't kick them out of bed.

"You really don't have to do this," I watch him unpack several items and place them on my counter.

He looks at me. "I insist. It's the least I can do."

I guess that's my apology.

"I have good news," he says cheerily.

"What is it?" I can hardly wait for the answer.