Going for a run doesn’t help to erase the bitterness that’s been anchored in my stomach since I woke up this morning. I fell asleep in Noah’s arms not expecting that I’d wake up in an empty bed with a note bluntly stating that our acquaintance is over.

I refuse to chalk my bitterness up to heartbreak, but I can’t refuse that it’s something close. Too close, considering the brief amount of time we’ve known each other. And telling myself that I’m no worse off than I was at the start of my suspension five days ago feels like a self-patronizing slap to the face.

I am worse off.

First, I was pushed away from my job, the one thing that gives my life a purpose. And now this. Even running felt more like dragging my hollow frame around the neighborhood.

Noah is the only thing outside of my job to make me feel. And he’s gone.

Nothing left but my own stupidity. I was so infatuated with his personality, his pictures, his sarcasm and humor that I led myself to believe that Noah also had more than one night in mind.

Wrong.

All his teasing and charming and charisma were nothing more than a vehicle toward his end goal. I can see that now. But how foolish of me not to expect it from the very beginning. That’s why people go home with someone they meet in a club.

Not in hopes that it’ll lead to a home cooked dinner date.

Not in hopes that it’ll lead to numerous dinner dates.

Not to find love.

Love.

I swallow the lump in my throat and collapse into the couch, flipping on the TV. I showered when I got back from Noah’s, hoping to wash off the filth of feeling used. Which it didn’t. But I need another one now. The sweat from my run is crispy dry on my forehead, but I don’t have the energy. Not right now. I’ll shower later and try again to wash away the filth. That, and my memory of the last four days.

The channel is fixed on some version of a show that revolves around a poor young women with a newborn whose father could be one of a handful of guys where a paternity test will reveal who’s not the father, ending with the woman leaving in tears while the man beats his chest in celebration. Hooray for reality TV.

Today’s victim is a thin woman with bleached blonde hair. The volume is a quiet mumble, but I don’t have the slightest urge to turn it up. Sound isn’t required for these types of shows, not to mention that most of the dialogue is so vulgar that the network beeps it out anyway.

Although, the child is adorable. He’s a young boy with curly brown hair and a complexion slightly more bronzed than his mothers. The poor little guy. I can only imagine the conversations looming in the future, waiting for him to see the way his baby picture was plastered on the television while some host paraded his mother around the set.

The poor young woman stands and points as someone enters stage left. I mute the TV and grab my cellphone.

I’m not really thinking as I dial, but Nora’s on the other end before I have the chance to hang up.

“Hi Nora,” I deadpan. “Are you at the hospital?”

“Nope. I’m off today. Just running a few errands right now. Shit—that reminds me, I forgot dog food. Damn it.” She sighs in frustration and I stay silent, listening to her fiddle with something. “What’s up? What are you doing today?” she asks after a beat.

“What do you think?”

Nora sighs another sigh that’s noticeably heftier than her first. “I think you know what I want to say to that.”

“If you even hint at another night out I’m going to hang up and block your number,” I say, and Nora laughs without me. It was only half a joke.

“Ugh,” she groans. “I feel bad about that. That guy was a creep, but I shouldn’t have made you act like a cop. It was your night to forget about that and it kind of backfired.

“Uh, to say the least,” I retort. “But don’t feel too bad. You gave me a good excuse to never go out again.”

Nora’s reply is a mixture of groaning and laughing. “Sophia…” she grumbles. “This suspension is turning you into quite the Debbie-Downer.”

I’m tempted to fire back, but it stays lodged in my throat. “I’m on paid-leave,” I mumble instead. My tone causes her to pause.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I slept with him,” I say.

“What?”

“Noah.” There’s a weight to his name as it leaves my mouth. “The guy who saved our asses from that creep. I slept with him. Last night.”

She squeals with delight. “So that’s why you’re calling,” Nora exclaims. “Sophia Bell, roping them in from the club. Look at you. Way to go girl!”

“No, not way to go,” I say. “I feel disgusting, Nora.”

“What? Why?”

“I hate one-night-stands. You know that.”

“That’s true. But, I mean, this isn’t your first…” she says. I swallow my response instead of replying. “Sorry, that sounded way worse than I meant. I’m just confused. He must have called you, yes? So what were you expecting when you two—”

“Sex,” I say flatly. “I was expecting sex. But last night was our second date and that was the first time we slept together.”

“Whoa,” Nora bellows. “Second date? And this is the first I’m hearing of it? What the hell?”

“You better tone it down a little or this might be the last,” I say. Which is a joke, but it makes my point well enough. “This isn’t cause for celebration,” I add.

“Why not? This is exactly what I was hoping for,” she says proudly. “And by the way, it’s not a one-night-stand if it was your second date, girl.”

“It feels like it was. He was already gone when I woke up this morning and he left a note saying never to call him again. I feel gross and used.”

“Wow.” This time there’s no enthusiasm in her voice. “What a dick. But still, that was a great outing for you. Well done. He was hot.”

“Are you hearing me? The little party you’re having is not what I feel over here.”

“What do you want me to say?” she asks. “I’m not going to throw you a pity party for fucking your frustration out.”

“Jesus, Nora.”

“What? You said you feel used, so what? You used him too, didn’t you?”

“No,” I blurt, surprising even myself at how offended I sound.

“Uh-huh,” she hums. “Whatever you say.”

“How, Nora? Tell me how I managed to use Noah and also got myself dumped.”

“You’re kidding right? You needed a distraction from your suspension, which was exactly why we went out in the first place.” There’s a short pause before she adds, “And you didn’t get dumped, by the way. You guys did the deed and then went your separate ways. That’s how it goes.”

“That’s not how my relationships go.”

“Come on, Sophia. I know it can suck, but it’s your choice to be upset about it. Honestly, this whole affair seems mutually balanced to me. You both used each other, for different reasons I’m sure, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But I wanted him, Nora.” Again I’m surprised at the way it comes out. “I still do. I really liked him. I mean genuinely liked him. He was so easy to talk to, it’s like I’ve known him forever.” Nora starts to speak but I talk over her. “Knew him, I should say. It’s over now.”

“I get that, but it might’ve been over from the beginning,” she says. “I worded that weirdly, but all I’m saying is that was probably all he ever had in mind.”

“He took me to dinner at Giovanni’s,” I say as if in defense.

“Oh wow. That’s the nicest asshole I’ve ever heard of.”

“And we didn’t even have sex afterwards. But I came over last night and made him dinner, and—” I hesitate, debate, than decide to say it anyway. “—and it felt like the beginning of something special.”

“And then you had sex, and then he decided the appeal was gone,” she says. “Not a coincidence.”

“I know.” My body deflates as I say the words. “It’s just, I really thought…”

“I know,” Nora says, even echoing my tone of voice. “I don’t want you to think I’m being a bitch about this, but I am giving you some tough love because it doesn’t do you any good to linger over him. It really doesn’t.”

“What’s wrong with me, Nora? This is embarrassing,” I say, feeling a little lighter as I give in. “Why did I get so damn attached?”

“It happens. I’ve met a few guys I thought were truly special. They weren’t,” she says. “Eventually you forget all about them.”

Yeah—not happening.

The thought settles so firmly that I want to say it out loud, but that would only move this conversation three steps—and ten minutes—backwards.

“It sucks,” I say instead.

“It does. But you’ve already survived a week away from work! That’s miraculous for you. Just try to find something to keep your mind off him for seven more days and than everything will go back to normal.”

For the first time all day, my bitterness slowly begins to wane. She’s right. If I were at work right now, I wouldn’t even be thinking about Noah.

That’s a lie.

I would be thinking about him, but not so dismally.

“Yeah,” I concede. “I think you’re right.”

“Whoa—I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say those words.”

I can’t help but giggle at that. “Don’t ruin your luck already,” I say, and she echoes a similar lighthearted giggle.

“But honestly, you know I don’t sugar coat things—” I interrupt with a sarcastic laugh. “Hey now. Don’t ruin your luck either,” she says. “But in all seriousness, it was a very brief affair in the scope of everything. You don’t need him.”

I feel a defiant churn in my stomach.

Nora picks up on my hesitation. “Sophia. You really don’t, all right?”

“Okay,” I say. “You’re right. I don’t.”