Morning After
Lex
The sun streaming in through the blinds pulls me out of sleep. I stretch and wince at the soreness in my muscles; my whole body aches. I hear the sound of dishes in the kitchen and look at where Adrian was when I fell asleep. The bed is empty, but that warm, smokey scent that follows him around lingers; he must have gotten up for coffee. I rise out of bed, finding my shorts and shirt in a pile on the floor. Every step brings back memories of last night as my body protests, but I can’t help but smile as I recall it; it was incredible. I duck into the bathroom, and I’m sobered when I relieve myself, finding a small streak of blood mixed with his cum.
We had sex.
We had sex without protection.
I’d been so desperate that I didn’t even realize he wasn’t wearing a condom, and he didn’t ask if I was on birth control. Which I’m not.
Idiot.
Cursing myself, I look for my toothbrush, which had been on top of my makeup bag, but it’s gone. I locate it in the cup at the back of the vanity, and when I pick it up, its bristles are damp.
Did he use my toothbrush?
It seems so intimate, like something reserved for… not this.
Not us.
I rinse it, add a dab of toothpaste, and brush my teeth, but I’m still lost in my thoughts. When I’ve finished, I stare at my reflection, the flush in my cheeks, and my fingers tighten around the edge of the sink. I feel so hollow, and panic curls low in my stomach.
I need to get the morning-after pill.
Returning to the bedroom, I grab my phone and open the maps app. There’s a pharmacy close by.
Would he care?
It’s fine.
It’s not about him.
This is just a precaution.
I head toward the kitchen, where the sounds of life come from, and smell coffee and vanilla. Still in her pajamas, Juliana unloads the dishwasher while quietly humming to herself, her hair piled high in a messy bun. She smiles when she sees me and turns to the espresso machine beside her, switching it on.
“Assume you need a coffee after last night.” She smirks.
I lower myself onto the stool opposite the sink she’s in front of, wincing slightly from the tenderness.
“Please,” I respond, then strain my ears, hearing nothing elsewhere in the house. “Where is…?”
She returns to the dishwasher, grabbing plates and moving them into their cupboards.
“They left first thing for golf. And Lex,” she says, looking at me, “that man is even more delicious in person.”
I blush, tucking my hair behind my ear. He is, he really is.
“Did he say anything?”
She hands me a mug filled to the brim with creamy coffee. Lifting it to my face to breathe it in, I avoid looking at Jules, trying to conceal how disappointed I am that he’s gone. He left without saying goodbye. He told me I couldn’t leave without telling him, but he left.
Was it me?
My stomach twists so violently that I put the coffee down, suddenly feeling nauseous.
Am I not… good?
I’ve never questioned myself like this. This is what he’s doing to me, destroying me little by little.
“I only met him briefly, babe. He said he didn’t want to wake you after being up so late. Speaking of, I could have killed Aleks last night. What the hell was he thinking? He’s lucky the boys didn’t wake up. He would have been a headline, so help me.”
She carries on, oblivious to the war raging in my mind.
He left.
Why do I care?
Juliana catches my attention when she says, “He mentioned leaving you a note in the bedroom.”
My head snaps up, and she smiles at me, fully aware of what I’m feeling. She understands that the absence was tearing me apart inside. Yet, her words make the butterflies in my stomach stir to life again.
No. Stop it. Please don’t like him.
“Oh, okay,” I say, fighting the urge to sprint to the bedroom for the note. Instead, asking, “Can we stop by a pharmacy on our way to the game, please?”
Thankfully, she doesn’t ask why and says, “Sure!”
I sip my coffee, and we make small talk, discussing our plans for the day, mostly centered around taking her oldest son to his baseball game. When she tells me she’s going to shower and get dressed, I slowly return to the bedroom. I scan the room, spotting the folded paper on the nightstand. I unfold the note, scanning the words once. Then twice. My brain refuses to process them. He pulled me into his arms and held me through the night—like I was something… important, precious. This can’t be right.
Be back in Torhaven no later than tomorrow at 8 p.m. A
I crumple the paper, my face burning and a fire raging in my gut. My flight home is booked for Monday. Being home tomorrow night means I’ll need to change my flight and explain to Juliana and Aleks why I’m leaving two days early.
Absolutely not.
I pull on denim shorts and a tank top, avoiding my reflection until the last moment. My hair is still in the braid he made, now loose and falling apart, with strands framing my face like ghosts of his hands. I take out the hair tie and run my fingers through the tangles, letting it cascade in waves down my back. My eyes burn; I feel like I could cry at any minute, and I bite the inside of my lip to distract myself from that. I can’t cry. The anger rages inside me, and I’m thankful I don’t have his phone number because I want to call and give him a piece of my mind; how dare he demand I change my trip when he doesn’t even have the decency to say goodbye?
He fills my thoughts throughout the day, even during the baseball game—I can’t bring myself to embarrass Klaus. He lingers through dinner, distracting me from being present with my friend. That night, as I crawl into bed, all I can sense is his musky, smoky scent, and I feel like screaming.
My thoughts are so dark and twisted that I struggle to sleep at all, tossing and turning. When I do manage to nod off, my dreams pull me back to last night—the way he looked at me, the way his fingers dug into my hips. I’m awake and livid when the sun slices through the blinds. A glance at the alarm clock tells me it’s 5:20 a.m. I’m expected to be home in just over 14 hours.
That shouldn’t make me anxious, but it does.
A few hours later, when Juliana steps out of her room, she’s surprised to see me sitting at the kitchen island, finishing my third cup of coffee. She approaches slowly, taking a moment to look me over.
“What’s wrong?”
She sounds genuinely concerned; I must look rough.
“I didn’t sleep well,” I respond, standing and walking to the espresso machine for my fourth cup. At this rate, I’ll never sleep again.
“Lex, you walked around like someone killed your cat all day yesterday. What is going on with you? Is it that guy? Andrew?”
“Adrian…”
I don’t have it in me to lie to her, and I can’t bring myself to tell her the truth about the note, the night before, and the chaos I’ve felt for the last 24 hours.
“Adrian, Andrew, whatever. What is wrong?”
I’m moving on autopilot.
Mug under the spout.
Coffee beans in the grinder.
Press the button.
She grabs my arm and spins me to look at her, her beautiful face etched with concern.
“Lex, stop. Talk to me.”
My eyes sting again, and that feeling makes me even angrier — angry that he can push me to this point. Juliana has known me for years; she sees right through the facade I’ve been trying to present.
“Babe, I won’t be mad if you want to go home. You don’t have to talk to me about it if you don’t want to. I think you should tell me, but I won’t be upset if you choose not to. I love you. I support you. I’ll drive you to the airport today if necessary.” She brushes her gentle hand across my cheek, trying to get me to look at her.
“I’m sorry, Jules. I slept like shit; I miss Millie-girl…”
“Please. I told you I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to leave. However, I will be pissed if you stand here and lie to my face. Tell me what’s happening. Don’t tell me, but don’t lie to me.” Her expression is still soft, but her eyes tell me she’s serious.
I flew all the way here. We had planned this months ago, and now I’m going to leave. I’m going to leave for a guy who has done nothing but manipulate and push me. My stomach twists into tight knots, and I finally lift my eyes to hers to hold her gaze. I feel myself start to fall apart as my eyes fill with tears.
“You promise you won’t be mad?” My voice cracks, and the first tear spills over the edge, streaking down my cheek.
“Honey, no. Never. See if you can change your flight. We can sit in the sun for a few hours, and then I’ll drive you. It’s a school night, anyway. It’s gonna be chaos around here.”
I pull her into a hug. I can’t thank her enough for that last comment, allowing me to believe that my leaving is also convenient for her. She hugs me tightly for a minute before releasing me and encouraging me to call the airline. Within half an hour, my flight has been changed, and I’ll be back in Torhaven at 9:50 p.m. As I hang up the call with the airline, I feel a weight lift off my shoulders.
That relief stays until the wheels touch the runway. The moment they do, my stomach knots so tight it hurts. The city lights flicker through the window, blurring with the anxious churn in my gut.
I’m back.
And he’s here.
The city blurs past in streaks of color, traffic lights flickering through the tinted windows of my Uber. I’m lost in my thoughts and ignore the driver until he eventually stops trying to make conversation. I remain absorbed in my thoughts as I enter my condo building and ride the elevator. When I step inside my unit, Mildred races to me, expressing her disappointment at my absence. I stay lost in my thoughts as I lie on my bed, still in my clothes from the day, and drift off to sleep, dreaming of Adrian.
The sun shines directly on my face, and I groan as I open my eyes. I hadn’t intended to sleep through the night, but the weekend was a lot to handle. I grab my phone from the nightstand, and the battery shows 3%. Perfect. I plug it in and decide to wander to the coffee shop around the corner instead of making one here. I’m off work until Tuesday, so I might as well enjoy the day. I don’t change my clothes; I grab my wallet and head out the door.
The coffee shop is bright and busy when I walk in, alive with the soft hum of conversation and the faint strum of an acoustic guitar playing through the speakers. The aroma of fresh croissants fills the air. This cafe is notorious for its fantastic cinnamon butter; the scent has my mouth watering. I glance at the clock on the wall; it’s just after 10 a.m. I start when a warm hand lands gently on my shoulder. Turning, I see the partially healed split on his lip first, then shift my gaze to his eyes. He smiles widely, the small cut pulling as Greg, the Team Captain of the Yetis, maybe, tries to hide his wince.
“Morning, Lex.”
His voice is calm, gentle, and very friendly.
“Greg!” The surprise over seeing him is thick in my voice.
He looks me up and down and laughs, his eyes crinkling. I’m taken by how handsome he is, but more importantly, by how light and easy he seems.
“You look like… well… you look like shit.”
The comment comes off as genuine and sweet, not unkind. I can’t help but laugh. I didn’t even look in a mirror before leaving the house, and I can only imagine how I must appear.
“I got in from Florida last night and passed out. I definitely feel as rough as I likely look. But thanks for that.”
“Well, let me buy your coffee. Looks like you could use some TLC this morning; plus, we didn’t get to say goodbye after the event.”
If he’s upset about this, he doesn’t show it. His eyes are kind, and I notice the small cut in his eyebrow, faded to almost nothing—so tiny that only someone who knew it was there would see it. He steps up next to me, orders an Americano and a cookie, and taps his card on the screen.
“Have time to grab a seat?”
“Actually, I am off all day. I think I can spare a few minutes for you.”
I welcome the distraction from thinking about Adrian, and we move into a booth near the front window. Greg animatedly talks about hockey and work. I nod and smile at the right moments but only catch pieces. The rest of me is trapped between last night and the note I crumpled in my fist. He takes me by surprise when he breaks his cookie in half and holds some out for me. I hesitate a moment before I reach out and take it from him.
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
He chuckles and replies, “I wasn’t sure you’d take it. Thought maybe you’d assume it was poisoned, like some weird hockey rivalry payback for Adrian sucker punching me.”
I smirk at the comment.
“I’m not entirely sure I’d be your first target.” I bite into the cookie, and the flavor explodes on my tongue. It tastes like a Skor bar.
Greg leans onto his elbows, looking thoughtfully into the air. When he finally speaks, his voice is conspiratorial.
“That’s true. Adrian is definitely at the top of my list. However, poisoning him is too obvious. Cutting his brake lines seems like a more subtle option.”
I stare wide-eyed for a moment before a laugh bursts from me. My reaction must surprise Greg because he’s silent for a second before he starts to laugh, too. I wipe a tear from my eye. It feels so good to really laugh. After a moment, Greg says, through chuckles, “Full disclosure, I was going to eat the whole thing myself, but I didn’t want you to think all hockey players are complete Neanderthals.”
I snort into my coffee. “Not all, but some.”
“Yeah, some. The ones who are well over six feet tall and built like brick shit houses.”
I know who he means; he knows I do.
I shake my head and snicker, “You’re an idiot.”
He beams, and we settle into a comfortable silence, watching the people wander by on the street outside. Twenty minutes later, we stand and say goodbye. He gives me a light hug before holding the door for me and heading down the street. I turn in the opposite direction and head home, waiting for the inevitable moment when Adrian reappears.