Friend is a Four Letter Word

Shayna

SHAYNA

I awake to Carter kissing my shoulder and down the length of my arm. We’re sandy and my back aches like I’ve aged thirty years over night, but it doesn’t matter. It’s the first time I’ve ever woken up in someone’s arms—ever. I’ve always managed to slip out before the guy wakes up, or vice versa. I don’t care how sore I am, or how many times I’ll have to wash my hair to get the grit out, every second of that is worth this moment. This happiness. This feeling of security.

“We should get going,” he says. The softness of his tone goes to war against the feeling of disappointment in me at the thought of having to leave.

“Already? I thought we were going to stay two nights?”

“I know, I want to,” he says. He rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “But I’ve got to get back. We can come back another time. I promise.”

“Carter,” I say, rolling over to face him. “Is something wrong?”

He picks up my wrist and kisses the pulse point. “The only thing that’s wrong is that you’re about to put clothes on and that—that definitely feels wrong.”

He traces a line down my chest, between my breasts and down my stomach. I curl against his warm body, burying my face. “I don’t have to. We can stay.” I can feel him hard against my hip.

“I want to, good God I want to, but I’ve got a couple of things to do. We need to get on the road.”

I lock eyes and smile at him, just as I slip my hand under the blanket and decide to see just how quickly we have to get on the road.

“I’ve got a couple of things to do, too.” I say.

I was only successful in stalling Carter. We left an hour later than he wanted, but we still left. I try not to pout that we didn’t get to surf or enjoy each other more, but Carter seemed determined to get home for some reason.

“I’m going to get the bags in,” Carter says as well pull up the apartment building. He quickly checks his watch. “Then I’m going to head out.”

“Okay,” I say. I shove my hands in between my knees. I don’t know what to say, or to feel right now. Last night—last night was all new for me. I opened up in ways I never thought possible, I had sex with this gorgeous man, then fell asleep in his arms with the waves crashing and the fire dwindling. How much more perfect could an evening get? Except it must not have been that perfect. Something must have gone wrong, I must have said something—done something because since the moment I opened my eyes this morning, things have felt like they’re moving in reverse.

I want to ask him where he’s going, but I don’t feel like I have the right to if he isn’t volunteering anything. Maybe I pushed too hard last night. He sure seemed willing, though. More than willing. He did things to me—made me feeling things that I never thought came from sex.

“I’ll be home in time to grab something for dinner if you want,” he says. He rounds the car and then opens my door for me. “And this’ll give you a chance to relax, take a shower, whatever. I know that sand is killer.”

“Right. Great.” I nod and pretend everything is fine even though I’m seething with anger and embarrassment. The entire reason I came out here was to figure out who I really am. To stop pretending to be something I’m not. I wanted to stop keeping my misery and emotions draped around me like a security blanket. Carter clutches our bags and I follow him up the staircase to his apartment. Even though I slept with him last night, even though I was closer to him than I’ve ever been to anyone else and woke up with his nose nuzzled in my tangled hair, it still feels strange to follow him into his house—where I belong even less than my parents place.