She woke up with a start. A pounding head, and screaming eyes at the bright sunlight that shined on her bed from the open curtains.
All she could think of were the vague memories of the night before and a startling realisation that she had spoken to Jake.
Oh Lord, what on earth did they talk about?
She should shoot him a text. It's strictly to clarify her less-than-honourable behaviour.
*Jake, just wanted to apologise for anything i might have said yesterday, i can barely remember the night*
Despite her restless glancing, the phone only beeped in reply three hours later.
*you didn't say anything*
*you walked away*
Why does her heart beat so hard in the anticipation of his replies? Why does she even care about what he has to say?
*i'd like to talk to you, actually*
*oh, ok*
Why TF did she agree to this?
*can you have coffee at 3?*
*today?*
*where?*
*yeah*
*Caffé Bene by Riverside*
*see you then*
What on earth is she going to tell him?
YOU ARE READING
Emotional Outlets | ✓
Short StoryIn which a hooker falls in love with her client's roommate. snippet: "She'd wanted to slap him. Right across that goddamn handsome face. But then again, he is right. Isn't he? She is actually a whore. Isn't she?"
