Julia

The water trickles slowly from the spout of the iron faucet. I grip the side of the claw foot porcelain tub, the water splashing slightly in the otherwise silent room as I get comfortable. Then I rest my cheek against the cool, hard porcelain and watch it drip.

The water's practically lukewarm by now, but I don't want to get out. My wet hair clings to my skin and I sink in further, letting the water rise up to my neck. My legs sway side to side, and the water still drips.

Last night... it was a mistake. And this morning, I close my eyes and bring my hands up to my face, that was a mistake, too. There's nothing in etiquette class about leaving your one-night stand.

My throat feels raw as I take in a breath, remembering how last night felt. His hands on my body, his chest against mine as he rocked in and out of me, mercilessly, ruthlessly.

I've never... I swallow thickly, hating that I'm even comparing what happened to what I had with my husband. I feel like a bitch riddled with guilt, but I just let myself fall into the water, as if I can wash it all away.

No amount of time spent in this tub will clean away the sins of last night.

One good thing’s come of it though. The words are flowing through me so easily. All I’ve done since I’ve been home is write. I shouldn’t be happy about that, and I shouldn’t feel like this.

The pain in my chest though, the way my heart feels tight and my lungs too squished to breathe quite right, that's because I don't regret it.

I feel guilty that I don’t feel guilty. How does that even make sense?

Ping. My phone dings and I groan, squeezing my eyes tight. I must've been more than a bit tipsy last night to let Sue act as my conscience. She won't leave me alone. There were way too many fucking texts for her to have gone home with anyone herself last night.

I woke up this morning to a string of texts from her. Lots of Please tell me he didn't kill you messages, and a series of apologies if he did. She thinks she's funny. I thought I was doing a good thing by letting her know I was still in fact alive and unharmed, but all that did was open a floodgate of questions.

I can't help the way my lips beg me to smile and the way my heart flutters. Sue's having a good time teasing me. I push my big toe up into the spout as I slip deeper into the water and rest my head back.

Ping. My phone goes off again. I turn my head to the right, to where my towel and phone are sitting on the marble bench.

I can only imagine what she wants to know this time.

"I can't hide in here forever," I mutter under my breath, blowing the water away and finally lifting myself out of the comfort of the bath. I lean down and pull the plug, letting the cool air hit my heated skin.

It was nice while it lasted and after last night, it did my body good to relax in here. As I lean over to grab the towel, my pussy aches again with a slight twinge of pain. It's a good hurt though, the kind that lets you know you've been properly fucked. I laugh slightly into the towel and dry off my body, then work on patting my hair dry. My feet patter against the black and white penny tile floor.

The bathroom matches the estate's classic interior. Every accent and piece of décor reflects the timing of when the house was built. There are a few modern pieces, but they only accentuate the beauty of the classic architecture. It's expensive to maintain, but the beauty is unmatched.

I continue towel drying my long hair as the memories of renovating the house come to me one by one. The bit of happiness I'd claimed only moments ago seems to vanish.

Jace and I got into so many fights over this damn tile. I can see him standing in front of the mirror, glaring at me for being stubborn. It’s my family’s house though. This isn’t an Anderson estate. We both knew I was far more well off than he ever was. The steamy glass can't hide the past. I can hear his voice; I can see it all like it was just yesterday.

But it was years ago, and he's never coming back.

Ping. This time when the phone goes off, I can't help but want to cling to whatever Sue's sending me. I take a seat on the bench, wincing as my sore bottom sits against the hard marble and pick up the damn phone.

But it's not her.

Well, this last message isn't.

I have three from Sue, all wanting to know details about what I did with Mason last night. I roll my eyes and let out a small snort at her question about size.

By the looks of him, he should be packing... but I'm going to guess he's only four inches. Am I right?

She cracks me up. She's been sending me this shit all day. Anything to get me talking.

Nope, only three, I type back just to give her something to laugh about. She deserves it. Without all these messages and prodding I'm not sure how I would have handled this on my own.

I click over to the other message and my heart does an odd flip in my chest. Like it can't function for just a moment. Maybe it's shock and disbelief, or maybe it's fear? I'm not sure, but either way, I'm struck by the fact that Mason messaged me at all. I was sure that sneaking out the way I did would have sealed the deal between the two of us.

I wasn't even sure if I should leave my phone number. I imagine he was relieved to find his drunken one-night stand gone, and I didn't want him to feel obligated to call me.

At the same time, I desperately wanted him to call.

Not because of him. It’s not that I’m clinging to having a relationship at all. I just… I liked the way he made me… I don’t know what the right word is. The way nothing else mattered when I was with him. How it all slipped away, and I didn’t have to focus on anything but him. Mostly because he was only focused on me.

I want more of that. I need it. I bite down on my bottom lip and read the message.

It's not a question, and it's not a hello or an admonishment for leaving him.

I want to see you again. Blue Hill. 8 p.m. tonight.

I blink a few times at the message, and then a bit of anger starts to surface. He's so fucking presumptuous. As if I have nothing better to do than meet up with him.

I don't, if I’m being honest with myself. I haven't got a damn thing to do, other than write, which can wait, and everything in me wants to meet up with him. I lose a little bit of the fight in me at the thought, but still. This isn't happening like this.

I look down at the message again and the second read through only pisses me off even more.

Maybe I want a good fuck too, and by maybe I mean I fucking need it, but I'm not a goddamn call girl. Last night was something out of my realm.

Busy. I type in the word and hit send without even thinking, letting my high and mighty attitude lead me. But as soon as it pops up on the screen, oh fuck I wish I could take it back.

My head falls back, and I groan in aggravation. I should have just said yes. After all, I'm using him too, aren't I? I'm so busy staring at the ceiling and cursing myself that when my phone pings in my hand, I jump slightly.

Are you now?

His response should piss me off, but it makes me smile. I can just imagine the teasing way he would say it. Like he knows exactly why I responded like that. I smirk and bite the inside of my cheek as I text back.

Maybe I am.

His response is immediate. You are now. Blue Hill. 8 p.m.

My shoulders straighten, and I can't help but feel like this is some kind of test. Like a battle of wills between us. And I have no intention of losing.

Busy.

I hit send and wait for his response. I'm just staring at the screen and listening to the blood rush through my ears as the phone marks the message as read.

There's no immediate message back, and I start to question my position. I don't want to be alone tonight. I know it's pathetic, but I'm so tired of being lonely, lying in bed at night, staring at where Jace used to sleep.

I take in a heavy breath when Mason doesn’t message me back. It’s probably best that I don’t see Mason tonight anyway. I’ve never been alone before, and I’m too tempted to cling to him already. I push my hair back and try to decide if I should convince Sue to go out tonight. I'm sure she would if only I asked. Any of the girls would, and I fucking love them for it.

The phone pings in my hand and like a bitch in heat, I'm quick to read what he's said.

You win. Your call.

I bite the inside of my cheek and sway slightly as I write my response.