The Through Duet

Prologue

My eyes fluttered open, exhaustion hitting me immediately.

You’d think that I’d be used to this by now, but I wasn’t.

That tiny whisp of guilt always met me the minute that I opened my eyes, and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t shake it, and I didn’t know why.

After all, I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

I wasn’t doing anything that thousands of other people didn’t do all the damn time.

The hum of the air conditioner was loud enough to drown out the sounds from outside, but it wasn’t loud enough to muffle the soft snores next to me.

The cool air also wasn’t enough to save me from the body heat that was warming the entire left side of my body.

I was a winter person, so the colder the weather felt, the happier that I was.

My eyes glanced over towards the right side of the room, and even though the curtains were dark and heavy enough to block out most of the light from outside, the small slivers of brightness that were peaking over the curtain rod up top were enough to let me know that the sun was making its daily appearance already, and that just had me running my hands down my face.

Normally, I never spent the night. It was rare for me to fall asleep comfortably in a strange place, so I usually waited until the guy fell asleep before I quietly got dressed, then went about my business.

After all, it wasn’t like I agreed to these things to get to know the guy better.

Just like he didn’t really want to know anything about me, I didn’t really care to know anything about him.

Was that reckless? Yes. However, I protected myself as much as I could, and when you factored in how many acquaintance-rapes happened every week in this country, I was no safer than the next girl.

When I turned my head to the right, all I saw was a head of blonde hair, and I could only pray that I didn’t wake him up when I got out of bed.

Those awkward morning-after moments were no good to anyone, and you’d be surprised by how many guys made things uncomfortable because they just couldn’t help themselves.

Well, at least, the nice guys; the dickheads didn’t care much.

In fact, it was usually a race for the door whenever I encountered a certified jackass.

Nevertheless, I didn’t mind it much. Again, I wasn’t here to find love; I wasn’t that delusional.

No, I was here because I wasn’t delusional.

I was in this crappy motel room with a virtual stranger because girls like me didn’t get asked out by the gorgeous gym owner.

Girls like me didn’t get asked out by the sexy firefighter.

Girls like me didn’t get asked out by the handsome councilman.

Girls like me didn’t get asked out by the cool town mechanic.

Nope.

Not me.

Girls like me satisfied their needs with what they could get.

Now, while I wasn’t society’s definition of ugly, I was plain.

While I wasn’t obese, I was overweight. While I wasn’t dull, I also wasn’t charming.

While I wasn’t stupid, I didn’t have a college degree, either.

As much as I liked myself, I was a realist, and I was realistically aware of how limited I was when it came to the opposite sex.

Guys didn’t flirt with me, and while I was okay with that, I also wasn’t going to let myself become a victim to what society expected from a girl that looked like me.

So, yeah, while the guys that I met at the motel weren’t anyone’s Prince Charming, for a couple hours every few months, they were mine.

For a couple of hours every few months, I gave myself over to the feeling of being wanted, even if it was just because their options were also limited.

For a couple of hours every few months, I could ignore reality and feel just a tad less lonelier than usual.

Ever so slowly, I pulled back the sheets, praying that I could get out of bed with the least amount of noise as possible.

Since I never took my clothes off completely, all I had to do was grab my underwear, jeans, sandals, and purse, then get the hell out of here.

Even though I knew that I’d see him again because my routine was predictable as hell, it wouldn’t feel as awkward as it could if he woke up right now.

The agreement had been for one night only, and I never made exceptions.

Loneliness was a dangerous thing, and I was self-aware enough to acknowledge that I might get in over my head if I kept sleeping with the same guy, knowing that nothing would ever come of it on his end.

With the patience of a saint, I finally got dressed, then grabbed my purse, not even bothering to look back at the sleeping body still laying in the rickety bed that came with most motel rooms that charged by the hour.

When I was finally safely outside, I got in my car, started it up, then pulled out of the motel parking lot, ready to go home, take a shower, then actually get some sleep. Thankfully, I’d been doing this long enough to know that it was going to take only a couple of days for the shame to go away.