Page 21 of Desperate Haste

“Yeah?” I hear her whisper back.

“This might be just sex, but I think you’re one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever had ‘just sex’ with.” The words slip out and are the first time I’ve complimented a woman and truly meant it. Something about her makes it hard for me to keep my feelings to myself. And for the first time, I can feel myself actually falling for another person.

13

OPHELIA

“Ithink you’re one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever had ‘just sex’ with,”I hear him say in the darkness. My body goes stiff as the words ring in my ears, not only because of how genuine they sound but also because of how they make me feel. I’ve been told I’m pretty plenty of times in my life, but something about the words coming from him feels different. They make me feel different from the other men who have spoken them before.

Instead of responding, I lay next to him in the quiet of the night and try not to panic because of how my heart is racing. Because of his words. Because of how he makes me feel. Because I’m stupid enough to let him stayand sleep in my bed with me. I’m breaking all the rules I’ve created for myself over the years for a guy who is more than likely going to be sleeping with another girl by Tuesday. My heart sinks as I glance over to where he’s lying next to me, sleeping soundly and breathing deeply.

What the fuck are you doing, girl?

* * *

The soundof the buzzer to my door causes me to stir and I groan audibly in response. Who the hell is buzzing at the door so early on a Sunday? Instead of getting up to answer it, I roll over to the opposite side of the bed and tuck my head into the pillow. The door buzzes again, causing me to crack my eyes open just enough to allow for the images of my room to come into focus. I don’t feel Malcolm moving next to me like any normal human would at being awoken by the obnoxious sound. Reaching an arm out, I swipe it along my bed and realize it’s empty. My eyes fling open and my body juts up in bed, frantically looking around my room. After the deepest night of sleep I’ve had in years, my brain is taking its sweet time regaining full consciousness and functionality. None of his stuff is where I remember it being last night when we got into bed—he didn’t seriously leave did he? And why does the thought of him slipping out without saying goodbye make my heart lurch so much? The buzzing at my door stops just as my phone starts to vibrate from where I have it plugged in on my dresser.

“What the actual hell people, leave me alone,” I groan as I get out of bed to go and answer it. Still half asleep, I slide my thumb across the screen to answer it without looking to see who’s calling first.

“What?” I snap at the caller, annoyed that I had been pulled from sleep too soon. When Bailey lived with me, she would always be out and back before I even woke up but she never woke me before I came out on my own. I don’t like being woken up any earlier than I have to be and if you look up the definition of ‘morning grouch’ you’d find a picture of me smack in the middle of the page.

“Well good morning to you, princess,” Malcolm’s voice soothes over the line. “Open the door and let me in.”Let me in? What was he talking about?

“You woke me up,” I grumble through the line and I hear him chuckle softly. Fuck my stupid heart and the way it warms at the sound of it.

“I figured and I’m sorry about that. I promise it’ll be worth it. Come on, come open the door,” he coaxes.

Without responding, I scowl at the floor with my phone at my ear and walk towards my front door to push the call button. A few minutes later, he knocks on my front door and when I pull it open, I find him standing in the hallway holding a large cardboard box, a newspaper, and a carrier with two coffee cups nestled inside. He’s wearing different clothes than he was last night and is now in a pair of dark gray sweats, a T-shirt, and has his hair pulled back. For the first time, I see him wearing a pair of black, thick-framed glasses. The way they frame his face highlight his square jawline and pronounced cheekbones. Who knew glasses could be so hot?

“Good morning, princess.” He gives me a smile that shows off his teeth and I hate the way his face makes me feel.

“Ugh, cut it out with the nickname, you’re going to make me puke.” I gag and step aside to let him in.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” He flashes me another smile and pumps his eyebrows at me as he makes his way into the kitchen. I follow behind him and pull myself up onto one of the stools that’s tucked under the bar. He sets a coffee down in front of me with a wink and opens the cardboard box. Inside are an assortment of freshly baked donuts and bagels. My eyes feast on them for a moment before I look at him.

“You went and got breakfast?” Not once has anyone ever gone out and gotten me breakfast.

“Yeah. I also ran home quickly and changed so I didn’t have to wear my work clothes. But I stopped on the way back and picked these up, I hope I got some you like.” He turns the box and pushes it closer to me so I can take the first pick. Tucking my bottom lip over my teeth, I wiggle my fingers over the open box and pull out a donut that’s covered in sprinkles. I close my eyes as I take a bite and when I do, a moan escapes me as the sugar and butter awaken my senses. When I finish the bite and open my eyes again, I find him staring back at me with a smile.

“What?” I deadpan with a mouth full of donut.

“Nothing, I just think you’re cute. That’s all.” He shakes his head at me and doesn’t look away.

“You do not, don’t say things like that.”

“Like what? The truth?” I have the donut pulled halfway back to my mouth and I pause to look at him because of what he’s said. He doesn’t seriously think I’m cute, does he? This is supposed to be ‘just sex,’ you don’t find your fuck buddies cute.

At least, you’re not supposed to.

I take another bite of the pastry and wave a hand at him. “I’m not having this conversation with you. What’s the newspaper for?” I ask, attempting to shift the focus on anything besides us.

“Uhm, to read?” he snickers, grabbing the paper and his coffee and moving to sit in the stool beside me.

“You read the paper? Like thephysical paper?”

“Everyday.” He lifts himself up into the stool and unfolds the paper. His head tilts back and he starts to read the front cover over the bridge of his nose through his glasses. His posture mirrors that of an old man sitting in a barcalounger. Some might say he almost looks…cute. I can’t stop myself from laughing at him which causes him to turn his head to look at me. “What’s so funny?”

I shake my head nonchalantly. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

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