When I do wake up, his arms are still around me. The realization that what just happened actually happened, however, doesn’t fill me with the same bliss as before. No, I feel ashamed, afraid. What have I just done? Imperiled my best opportunity for my app just because I was turned on and vulnerable—what was I thinking? Allan is still fast asleep, although his face betrays nothing. It looks content, happy, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. He probably looks like this after all his conquests, while is all I probably am to him. I mean, this is Allan Dane I’m in bed with after all—the super-attractive, super-successful billionaire. Why would he go for me of all people?

The longer I lay there, in the arms of the man who I’ve had and yet, will probably never have again, the less I can stand it. When I extricate myself, however, one of Allan’s eyes snap open.

“Morning there, sunshine.”

At the edge of the bed, I linger.

“Morning.”

Allan moves so he’s leaning on the bed, halfway up.

“Last night I forgot to tell you, the coding for the app is finished. We can launch it in a week.”

His grin is so big it’s taken over his own face. I try to muster up one of my own.

“We’re going to make a fortune. Isn’t that great?”

All I can do, as I look at his delighted unaware face is quietly echo, “Great.”

We stare at each other for a minute, then Allan rises.

“Dibs on the bathroom!”

As soon as Allan’s out of the room, relief floods me. I flop back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to do now. It’s obvious that I care for Allan too much, but it’s equally obvious that he doesn’t care for me the same way, and can’t. As I lie there, however, and my thoughts turn into a hornet’s nest of anxiousness, my anxiety soon turning into irritation. Allan’s got the fan running, yet I don’t hear water. No, I haven’t heard so much as a flush since he got in there. What could he be doing?

I sit up. The answer comes as a swirling in my gut, but I stand up and dismiss the thought. No, Allan wouldn’t be doing drugs. Not now, right after we...

A trip to the kitchen reveals that there’s just about nothing to eat (unless you count moldy cheese) and even less to drink. I go back to my room to pick up my bag. Just then, Allan enters the room.

“Hey.”

He looks strange, or maybe that’s just because anxiety is painted all over my face.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

Now, Allan’s scrutinizing me. I nod, make my way to the bedroom door, and don’t look back so he won’t see my face.

“Yep. Just going to run out and get some bagels for us.”

And then I leave, not quite catching his response. It doesn’t matter, though—all that matters is that I get out of there. Halfway to the door, I realize I’m still naked. I crack up in spite of myself; thankfully, I have my old work bag still sitting by the door. So, I change into some pants and a shirt and then make my way out.

Only once I’m out of the building do I think to check my phone. There’s one message from Angel, sent an hour ago at 1 p.m.: Hey you must’ve had a crazy night—in bed all morning!!! Out shopping, text me when you get this.

I stare at the message for a minute. I feel too tired to formulate a decent response.

Yes, as I stand two feet out of the doors of my apartment and look at the city streets waiting to swallow me, I think of what I’ve just done, what Allan’s just said, and all I feel is tired. Too much has happened lately. Too many events, too many changes, too many emotions. At least, according to what Allan said, it all may be over soon. The convenience store is only a few blocks away, but I’m not in the mood for walking, for having more time to think. So, it’s in the car I go.

The trip there is fast; the trip inside the store less so. It’s packed with sleepy locals, not to mention that it’s out of bread. Thankfully, it at least has bagels and coffee. So, I grab two double-doubles, one bag of raisin bagels, and then head back home. I’m just pulling up to my building when I see them. Allan and the blonde woman from the pictures. He’s got his arms wrapped around her, her thin body pressed to him.

My whole body freezes, my car too. I can’t be seeing what I’m seeing right now, and yet, I am. Both their faces are blissful; their bodies are practically joined. There Allan stands with his actual love, not even trying to hide it, the dickwad, and I am the biggest idiot in the world.

A car honks behind me and I come to. Down goes my window and out goes the bagel package, landing with a satisfying “thwack” right on the side of Allan’s stupid head. And then I drive off.

Now, my foot is fused to the pedal, I can’t let up. I swerve around cars, corners, through lights, not going anywhere, but away. Away from that place that’s my home and the man who was in it. The lying bastard who just used me to get at my idea, who fucked me over—literally and figuratively—and the morning after had his true love come and see him.

My phone ringing has me pull over.

It’s Angel.

“Hey, girl, I’m at Aritzia and you will not believe the sale they have here! Buy two, get two free! The only thing is... I’ve got $50 and these shirts, these stupid shirts, they’re $50. But totally worth it, still!”

I sit there mute. I know I should say something, respond, but I have no idea with what.

“Uh, Eva?”

Still, I can’t speak.

“Eva, you there?”

All I can manage is a sobbed, “Yes.”

“Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shit. Is this why you didn’t leave your room?”

More sobbing. I can’t tell her, don’t want to, don’t know where to start.

And yet, it slips out anyway. “I slept with him. Allan Dane. I slept with him, and he loves someone else.”

“Oh fuck, fuck, Okay. Where are you?”

I throw a look around and, through my tears, manage to make out a far-off sign.

“M-Madison Square Garden.”

“Fuck, okay. Stay there, okay? I’ll be right over, okay?”

More tears. Waiting here won’t be so hard and yet...

“What?” Angel asks.

“W-what about the sale? Aritzia?”

Angel heaves a sigh.

“For fuck’s sake, Eva. Don’t be ridiculous. Aritzia can go to hell. Now you don’t move, okay?”

And I don’t. I sit there on the side of the road with my flashers on, crying as if I can cry it out before Angel arrives. I can’t, of course, and when she arrives I get a whole new flurry of tears at the sight of my friend’s concerned face through my windshield. She slips in the seat beside me, coos.

“Eva, are you all right? Eva, what happened?”

And through frenzied sobs and prolific nose blowing, I tell her. About Allan and my half-day date, Geno’s attack, Allan’s save, Allan and me, together, in the shower, in the bed. About Allan and the blonde women, together, outside of my building.

But at this part, Angel isn’t as vehemently enraged as I expected.

“You’re saying he was there hugging her, right? Not kissing?”

I nod, then shake my head.

“I don’t know, I was so shocked, I... Listen, Angel, I saw her. It was the same woman plastered all over his house, okay? Who else could it be but his girlfriend, wife, whatever.”

But once again Angel isn’t as convinced as she should be.

“I don’t know, Ev. I mean, yeah, it sounds sketchy, but we don’t know anything for sure. Maybe you should give him a chance to explain.”

I shake my head.

“Give him another chance to lie some more, make some more excuses? No, thanks, I’ve had enough. I can’t take any more.”

Angel nods and leans over to hug me.

“Okay. Let’s just get you home, and we’ll have a Vampire Diaries marathon, okay?”

As we switch seats, I remember.

“Though you don’t have to worry about the app. Allan told me it’s finished. It’ll launch in a week.”

Angel nods, pats me again.

“Fuck Allan and even the app, okay? For now, let’s talk about ice cream and Vampire Diaries.”

I nod myself, then lift a coffee to her.

“Want a double-double?”

She wrinkles her nose.

“You know I hate that stuff.”

I shrug.

“I chucked the bagels at Allan.”

Now Angel’s eyes widen.

“No way...”

“Yes way—and they hit him in the head.”

At this, we both crack up, throwing back our heads, taking big gulps of air, heaving guffaws at the image. And then, for a second, for a half second maybe, it’s almost all right.