Not That Simple

Mistake

Chandlers POV

A dream. There is no other way to put it. Holding her in my arms promising it will always be okay. Whispering reassuring words into her ear, listening to the way her heart thumped faster and faster the closer I got.

The way her soft lips caressed mine, in probably the best kiss I've ever had, and ever will have.
The way she tilted her neck for me to gain more access, the soft noises she made when I trailed kisses across her collar bone wherever I could reach.

The feeling of her nails tangling in my hair as she kissed me. Willingly removing our shirts as they became an unbearable restriction for us. I unhooked her bra, kissing and sucking any part of her skin I could reach. God, the moans of approval from her, causing my body to set alight and my groin to grow tighter.

How perfect her body was. My god. I think I may have told her more than 900 times how unreal she was. The way her body writhed beneath me, begging for more, needing me. Her nails dragging down my back, cutting into my skin as she struggled to keep under control.

The amount of trust she put into me...by far the best I've ever had.

And it was with Monica.

Clenching my eyes tighter together not ready to leave my dream just yet, I turn over only getting so far before I'm tugged back. My left arm is trapped. Twisting my body around I gasp, a woman with curled, raven black hair fanned out across the pillow, and nothing more but a quilt covering her body, is right beside me.

That was a dream. Wasn't it?

My head pounds, the light, along with the straint of my body and confusion mixing together creating a pretty well deserved hangover. My knees ache and my arms feel heavy, other than the headache I'm okay.

Racking my brains I attempt to remember last night. Everything inside is telling me it was real, what I 'dreamt' was real, I can't see myself doing it though.

Turning my head to look back at Monica, my insides melt, she is beautiful. Utterly perfect.

What have we done? She will hate me. I can tell I had a lot to drink, I'm sure I remember seeing her in the club last night drinking scotch, my memories aren't clear, the pictures blurred, keeping me from the truth.

What is wrong with me!? The woman told me not even 24 hours ago that she got beaten, often ending with her covered in cuts and bruises to the point of where she couldn't walk. The constant emotional beatings. How all that worked together to turn her into a frightened, girl who hated everything about herself.
To make it better I sleep with her!!

It's not a lie that it was the bests sex I've ever had, though that's just judging on how I feel, I don't think I've ever felt this good after sex. It would make it so much better if I remembered everything, the most I can grasp at is the little thing going through my head before I woke up.

I know I wouldn't sleep with her because I just felt sorry for her, it's obvious I think she's perfect and that I wouldn't do that. I mean, Monica seems classy, it's not something she would do either.

I'm forced back out of my thoughts into the room where slowly a flood of light streams over the blanket illuminating the floor, I see a pile of clothing, unable to make out who's is who's.

Monica shivers at my side, I want to bring her closer to me, keep her warm in my arms, somethings warning me to keep the distance. Grasping the blanket in her tired fists she yanks it up getting no luck as it's half hanging off the bed. Disgruntled she groans, tossing to her left then the right, it wasn't just me who didn't want to wake up.

My eyes train on her face, my body withholding a breath.

Slowly but surely her eyes flutter open, the blue pools capturing mine, for the split second we meet, my heart aches.

Then it's gone.

Monica yelps instantly tugging the blanket around her body, confused for a minute blinking down at me then back up, her breathing rapidly coming faster and faster.

"Oh my god" for a few moments she's quiet trying to understand it all,
"...we didn't" she eventually gasps, unfortunately I'm facing a more than hopeful face, I knew what to expect but it still doesn't feel great.

Laughing nervously for a few awkward seconds I avoid eye contact "I...think...we did" My voice comes out in a whisper, scratching the back of my head I face down, her face drains blank, searching the room her eyes widen slightly.

"No no no no no." Monica repeats, pleading for it to be all a nightmare. I remain rooted to the bed, unable to bring my brain into gear. "God what have we done" she cries leaping from my side, hurrying around and grabbing her clothes.

For a minute I think there's a chance she will get dressed in my presence, before it's destroyed with a slam from the bathroom door.

Shoving back part of he blanket that I kept over me I rotate my body, begging for it to hurry up and get into gear, eventually I'm there ready to stand.

On shaky knees I stagger the couple of steps it takes to what clothes are left, I yank my jeans over my legs, followed by my top. Quickly glancing in the mirror I flatten my hair best I can, with no look whatsoever.

I'm sure I can hear something coming from the other room other than the shuffling around and taps running now and then.

With a flush of the toilet the door opens again, now a fully dressed, tidied up Monica walks out. There's no expression, no nothing. I've no idea what she's thinking.

"Monica..." I try, my fingers barely skimming the side of her arm, she jumps a mile into the air away from me, hurriedly grabbing at any belongings scattered elsewhere.

Glancing back at me one last time I think I see the attempt of a smile, but her eyes. All I see in them is desperation, glassy from tears, and I hate to say, Im sure it's resentment.

Her hand pushes back a piece of hair blocking her sight, "I-i have to go" and with the last muttered words, I'm alone.

Slowly I get my bearings, replaying her leave through my head for a minute. Coming back to my senses, I'm alone again.