13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Echo
I cleaned myself up in the half bath and went into the kitchen. My hands shook as I made tea.
I had sex with Remi Drake. I had two amazing orgasms with Remi Drake. I had the fabulous sex that books are written about with Remi Drake .
And he said he wanted to do it again. That was a good sign, right? It meant he enjoyed the sex. He didn't think my body was repulsive. The bedside lamp was on so he could see my body.
I felt giddy with joy.
I heard the shower run and loved that he was naked in my bathroom. He'd smell like me when he came out. He'd use my towels. My sheets would smell like him until I changed them. Even if this never happened again, and this was the only time I got to have him, I was grateful for it. I had a chance to feel beautiful, desired, and loved . Oh, not in the I love you forever sense but loved as in someone touched my body with pleasure, held me, hugged me, kissed me. He was tender and rough, affectionate, and demanding. I was still gloriously sore between my legs.
The quiet of the house was getting to me as I waited for Remi to come out of my bedroom. Would he say he regretted it? Would he say it was horrible? Would he say it was great? Would he suggest we date?
My cheeks flushed at that last thought. Could it happen? Could I be that lucky?
I connected my phone to the Bose speaker via Bluetooth and picked my favorite playlist. Etta James began to sing Shakey Ground just when the kettle whistled. I filled my cup with hot water and let the white tea bag steep.
I had taken a tentative sip when Remi stepped out of my bedroom. His hair was wet, and he looked serious .
My heart clenched. Oh, he was in a bad mood. He regretted it. Well, no surprise there. My fantasies may have taken this to a place that couldn't exist except in a fool's paradise—but I was a tough broad. I was prepared for reality.
"Would you like some tea?" I asked politely.
Was this how one behaved after some amazing sex? What the hell was the protocol for this?
"No, thanks." He walked close to me and checked his pockets. He pulled out his phone. "I'm just going to call an Uber."
"I can drop you off," I offered.
"No, thanks," he repeated. He pushed buttons on his phone, and I stood across the kitchen island from him, pretending to drink my tea, my heart in my throat.
He set his phone back in his pocket and gave me a tight smile. "Uber will be here in five minutes."
"Okay."
He looked around uncomfortably and then at me. "Echo, I don't want you blabbing about this to anyone."
Blabbing?
"Hmm." I drank tea to stop myself from screaming or crying or throwing the hot liquid at him.
"Lani and my mother won't appreciate it. My father will also be upset. And Marina and I just broke up. This will hurt her. I don't need the drama."
I gathered all of my resources and kept my face free of emotion. It cost me, but showing him my heartbreak would, I knew, cost me a whole lot more. "It's a one-night stand, Remi. Don't worry about it."
There, that sounded like I was cool and sophisticated, didn't it?
"Well, I'm going to wait outside for my ride."
"Goodnight, Remi."
He walked to my front door and then turned suddenly, I was right behind him and took a step back to stop him from bumping into me.
"You're okay with what we did?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." A little brokenhearted, but that's my fault, not yours.
"I don't want any drunken text messages and phone calls and that shit."
Wow! He was really not going to treat me with any respect, was he?
"I'm not like your other floozies, Remi. I actually have a working brain."
"This ain't about your brains, Poo…. Just keep this to yourself. I'll see you when I see you. Yeah?"
"Sure."
He walked away, and I closed my front door and locked it. I leaned against it, my head warm against the cool wood. After mind-numbing sex, he was still going to call me Poopy Pants. In his head, I was still the DUFF, wasn't I? And no one fucked the designated ugly fat friend; or even if they did, they didn't advertise it.
I marched into my bedroom and stripped the sheets off my bed, feeling dirty and used. He'd taken something that could've been a nice memory and mucked it up with his thoughtlessness.
I put the towels he used and the sheets in the washer and put fresh sheets on my bed.
That night, as I struggled to find sleep, I promised myself that I'd never put myself in this situation again. I'd never ever sleep with Remi Drake, even if he was on his knees.
The hell with him.