Chapter Eleven
Kennedy Noelle
The click of a door stirs me from my slumber. I stretch, and every muscle in my body feels heavy and aches. I sit up and glance around the room.
Where the hell am I? My eyes widen as realization dawns.
The sequence of yesterday’s events flash through my mind like an old fashion movie, and I fall back onto the mattress, covering my face with my hands in shame.
Oh my god. I can’t believe I did that. I had sex with a stranger. Hot, dirty, unforgettable sex. I’m pretty sure I should book in for a mobile IV because I must be severely dehydrated. Four times, four times I came. Who knew that was possible?
I look over to my left expecting to see Beckett, but nothing but crumpled sheets meets my eyes.
“Beckett?” I call out, expecting him to be in the bathroom, but when I am met with silence, anxiety blooms in my chest.
Did he leave? I get out of bed and slip on my dress, gathering my underwear, purse and heels in hand and search the room. It’s only now I can appreciate how large this place is—more like a suite really.
I check the closet, the drawers, and the bathroom. Nothing. No Beckett, no bags, no clothes, no evidence of him ever being here.
Now, I don’t know the etiquette of a one night stand, but I am pretty damn sure this isn’t it.
He left. Just upped and left, left me alone in his hotel room.
Used me and tossed me aside like I meant nothing.
I thought we shared a connection; one that is often rare to have with someone you’ve only known for a short period of time.
He didn’t seem like the type, but then again, I don’t seem to have the best track record when it comes to men.
Shame and embarrassment wash over me. The things I said, the things I let him do to me. I should have known it was too good to be true. I really thought he was a good guy. I really believed he liked me. Not being able to bear a minute more in this room and the reminders of my mistake, I run.
I need to get out of here. I’ll take a cab all the way to The Hamptons if I have to.
I slip on my heels, throw on my coat and grab my suitcase from my room and head for the elevator, smelling of regret and shame.
What a fool I was to fall into bed with the first man who paid me attention after I was dumped?
How stupid was I to think he would be here when I woke up? We both agreed on one night, nothing more. I said those very words. I knew it couldn’t go anywhere. So why does this rejection hurts more than the end of my long term relationship?
Maybe it’s because I knew me and Carson were over long before we made it official. Maybe it’s because Beckett made me feel a way no one ever has, maybe it's because I was na?ve enough to believe that I was worth wanting and keeping.