Page 50 of Quarantined
“We can sleep here,” I sigh. If he is not giving me a choice, I choose to sleep here.
There are six bedrooms in this house. After his parents left, Milo took the master bedroom, which stands on its own on the farthest side of the house. It’s the most private.
“Good.” Milo kisses my shoulder and trails his lips on my upper arms. “I will join you, if you still want to take that shower?”
Dread builds inside me. I do want to take a shower. I feel sticky, and I am pretty sure I bled a little. I have an urge to clean up. But something tells me that Milo expects sex with his proposal of a shower together. The thought alone keeps me pinned on the bed.
“I am kind of tired now. Can I get a shirt to sleep in?”
Milo gets up and brings me one of his sleeping shirts. It’s long enough to go down to my thighs. I put it on and go to the bathroom to clean up what I can, without having to shower.
Milo is standing by the bed, completely naked, his eyes are fixed on me as I walk to the bathroom. When I turn to close the bathroom door, I catch the way he is looking at me—darkened lustful eyes, looking unbelievably hungry.
I hurriedly close the bathroom door, not giving any chance to open that Pandora's box again. Suddenly, I want nothing more than to go to sleep in my bed, away from Milo.
And around midnight, that’s exactly what I do.
Milo is asleep when I tiptoe back. He has been on edge since I got home. And I don’t think my defiance will help the situation.
However, I just gave up my virginity and slept with the only man I shouldn’t have. I am an emotional wreck and in physical pain. I have earned the right to take a hot shower by myself, sleep in my clothes, and in my own damn bed.
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Milo
I wake up without that beautiful girl wrapped around my arms. Again. It takes about a second for my eyes to adjust. But I didn’t need the lights on to feel Raven’s missing warmth. I blink as I orient myself and gather my wits.
Memories of last night wash over me. A smile forms on my lips as I think about it. Raven lost her virginity to me. We experienced a moment of perfect togetherness. Just her and I. The way it was always supposed to be.
I didn’t plan for us to have sex last night. When I told her I needed her, I meant being with her, holding her, feeling her close. But after she told me about some guy in Paris, it snapped me out of my noble intentions. The moment she admitted to blowing some fucker in Paris, I threw caution to the wind. Pure animal instincts took over as if needing to fill my female mate with my own seed. I dragged her to bed with an immediate need to mark myself on her.
Anger courses through me at the thought of her with that asshole. She told me she loved me. We kissed. Then she left without talking to me and blew some guy in Europe while I was pining for her.
She hurt me. Bad.
I told her I forgave her. In turn, she left me in the middle of the night. I slam my hand onto my bed. I find myself annoyed, aggravated, and angry yet again.
I am angry at Raven for always avoiding conflict. I am angry at myself for having no control left when it comes to her. I am supposed to be taking care of her, not fucking her. Most of all, I am angry that Raven was hooking up with some douchebag in Paris.
Imagining Raven with another guy fucks up my mood entirely from last night’s bliss.
What was I thinking? Why did I think she was responsible enough to go to Paris with an absentee parent like Theressa? I was her age only a few years ago. I know what goes on in a seventeen-year-old’s mind—all the hormones. Why the fuck did I think Raven was above that? I gave her too much credit.
I'm landing in a pile of anger and jealousy. I know it. Unable to help myself, I take out my phone. I forced myself not to stalk her on social media while she was in Paris. But now it's no holds barred. I go to her Facebook page to look through her photos from over the summer.
And there he is. Some Michel fucker with his arms draped around Raven. My Raven. This was just three weeks ago. Jesus, I’m going to lose it. She was blowing this douchebag only three weeks ago.
Fuck!
I look through his profile. He is my age, which means experienced. She put her mouth on his dick, and God knows what else they did. I should have been the first one she did that to. The only one, in fact. He took what was fucking mine. I toss the phone on the bed and lie back, throwing an arm over my face. I am beyond livid.
I try to reason with myself. I gave her an open-ended plane ticket after she said she loves me. I can see why she thought I was trying to get rid of her because I couldn’t handle her feelings. As if I haven't already been handling her feelings for years.
Either way, dating other people was supposed to be the right decision. We were both supposed to move on during the summer.
Except, I didn’t move on from her. I couldn’t even look at another girl. Raven obviously had no problems in that department.
I told her I forgave her. I want to believe that. But I am so angry. Raven could have at least talked to me before making all of these assumptions. Instead, she blew me off, while she literally blew this asshole.
