“GOOD MORNING.” Jeremy’s deep voice startles me as I wake from a deep sleep. When the haze lifts from my brain, I open one eye to see Jeremy still in my bed, leaning on one arm looking cool as a cucumber and even more sexy than last night. Oh, my gosh, he stayed in my bed last night. Not good. What's worse than that, I asked him to. No, begged. I begged him for more than that too.
“Morning,” I say casually as I roll to my side, ready to climb out of bed to freshen up in the bathroom. He may be one of those people who can wake up looking just as good as he did yesterday, but I'm sure my hair is a matted mess, my mouth has that not-so-fresh feeling, and there's the little fact that I'm naked as the day I was born. So not only am I embarrassed that I begged this man to give me one night of everything we said we wouldn't do, but now, I have to take the walk of shame to my own bathroom in the buff. I try to pull the sheet to wrap it around my body, but I'm not that talented. Plus, I do those fancy military tucks so they don't come undone in the middle of the night. My bed is the Fort Knox of hospital corners.
“Going somewhere?” Jeremy asks.
“Bathroom.” I seem to have lost my ability to say more than one word. I'm also refusing to look at him with his abs on display along that V thing pointing below the sheet that is barely covering his male parts. And good God, his happy trail. But I’m not focusing on that either. Instead, I’m blindly reaching under the bed while praying I have some article of clothing there, but all I come up with is a slipper. Not helpful.
“Looking for something?” he asks.
“Shirt.” I'm holding the sheet against me, wondering if it will stretch to the dresser that's ten paces away. It won't, though.
“Foxy, I've seen it all. More than once.”
“I know.” Two words this time. It’s progress.
“Then why won't you just stand up and go?”
Because I feel exposed. I know I am attracted to Jeremy. We've been doing this for a few months now, but last night, there was a moment when I felt more than just a friendship for him. I don't want to analyze that because whenever I start to do that, think of the future, it goes to complete crap. I wind up getting hurt, and that’s not something I want to relive again.
“Can you cover your eyes?” I beg him, again.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.” Now, I’m pleading.
He doesn't, though. Instead, Jeremy walks into the bathroom on full display. As he walks past me, I cast my eyes up to the ceiling. When he comes back, he has a towel wrapped around him. He points to my dresser in silent question.
“Second drawer,” I tell him.
He hands me a t-shirt and shorts.
“Mind if I steal these? Everything in the bathroom is still wet.” Jeremy holds up a pair of oversized men's boxers and a Butter My Bread shirt that I like to sleep in. A shirt I stole from him. Technically, the boxers are too. He gave them to me after a night in his apartment when he ripped my clothes clear off me. I meant to give them back, but they are so soft and comfy to sleep in.
“Sure.”
“You want coffee?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Jade?”
I look up at him after I get the shirt over my head and over my body.
“What happened last night ... nothing has to change. Okay?”
“Okay.” And the tension drains from me.
“You want to go get breakfast?”
“It's Saturday.”
“I'm well aware.”
“Saturday is waffle day.” Every Saturday, my family would have waffles to kick off the weekend. Monday through Friday, my parents worked too hard; Saturday's were meant to be lazy. For the most part, I’ve kept up that tradition until carbs became bad.
“I can't cook waffles, but I'm sure the diner serves them,” he tells me.
“I can make them.” Just a few seconds ago, I couldn’t even look at him, and now, I’m asking him to stay.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“You sure you want me to stay?” he asks.
I do. I'm just not ready to overthink what happened last night. “Yes.”
He crouches in front of me. “I don't want to overstay my welcome.”
“You're not. I invited you.”
“And now I think you regret that. Do you?”
“No.”
“Last night was great. Best night I've had in my life. But I don't want you to feel uncomfortable in your own home,” he tells me sincerely as his dark eyes are searching mine for a true answer.
“I don't.”
“Yeah, you do. I'm going to head out. Besides, I've got some cleaning up I need to do at my house,” Jeremy says as he stands.
“Okay,” I say regretfully. I'm regretting this whole interaction. Because now things are different. I ruined it.
“Jade?”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing changes. You got me?”
“Okay.”
“Enjoy your waffles.”
I give him a weak smile as he walks out of the bedroom. In the distance, I hear the front door close. By the time I make it to the bathroom, I think I sat on the edge of the bed for ten more minutes. Our wet clothes littering the shower floor are reminders of what happened last night. After I place everything in the wash, I take care of myself. Bathroom, brush teeth, comb hair. I’m on autopilot, and I hate it. It is a step backward for me, the old routine Jade.
I video chat with my parents like I do every Saturday, but this time, I do it while binge eating waffles. After I successfully gained three pounds of carb and syrup weight, I curl on the couch to watch some cheesy made-for-TV movies I love so much. I continue my tradition of waffle Saturday with chicken and waffles for lunch and waffles and ice cream for dinner. Eight hours later, with six or more waffles devoured and a pint of triple chocolate brownie ice cream gone, I don't feel any better. I feel bloated and just as confused as before.
I haven't heard Jeremy come home yet, and I wonder if he's going to ignore me because I acted awfully to him this morning. The movie I am watching ends, and I’m completely out of sorts. It never bothered me to be alone before, but today it is. Something is gnawing at me. Why do I keep up my tradition of waffle Saturday when there is no one to share it with? That's the whole point. Sharing it with someone, family.
That concept, family, seems so far out of reach for me. I was about to call Lexi to ask her advice, but then I remembered she and Hunter are spending time with his mom this weekend. Kat and Aly, along with their men, always get together after Butter My Bread closes to eat and discuss business. And Dani is too far away and working.
“You are fine. Being single is fine. You don't have to answer to anyone. And you can eat all the waffles and ice cream you want for dinner,” I tell myself. It doesn't help. I turn off the television and decide to take a hot bath. Soak my sorrows away.
I put on some calming music and sink into the hot water when my phone buzzes.
Looks like I'll be moving out this week. My house is done.
Jeremy texts me.
I should be happy for him. It's his house. This isn't his home, but I feel more alone with that message.
Me: That's great.
I lie.
Jeremy: Did you enjoy your waffles?
Me: I ate too many.
Jeremy: Did you save me some because I'm starving?
Me: Was I supposed to?
Jeremy: It's the neighborly thing to do.
Me: I may have a few left.
Jeremy: I'll see you in ten.
Me: I'll have them warm and ready.
Jeremy: Looking forward to it.
Just like that, I don't feel so alone anymore. But I realize I overreacted this morning, which also means if I’m this emotional now with him leaving, I’m in too deep. I need to stop that. Put the rules back in place again. No more slipups.