Am I back in Africa?

It’s the first hazy thought I have as I blink the sleep dirt out of my eyes and begin my morning crack and roll routine. Except when I go to put my arms over my head, they’re trapped.

Sliding my eyes all the way open, I’m greeted by a solid chest, soft snoring coming from somewhere above. What the fuck?

I’m trapped against Clint’s body, our legs tangled together in an intimate embrace. I fell asleep with him in his bed, without even fucking his brains out first. This is a problem.

The fact that it feels so good and natural is another problem. A very, very bad problem. A pimple on your nose on a Friday night kind of problem. When you get your period right before your hot hook up comes over kind of problem.

He stirs, mumbling something in his sleep and I can’t help but stare up into his face. His beard has grown longer as they move toward the championships, something about not cutting it out of luck and superstition. It’s adorably flattened on one side, and his face is just basked in a blissful, deep sleep.

He’s so gorgeous sometimes I wonder how I overlooked it. And then there is that typical guilt buried in the pit of my stomach. I realize that it’s shallow…me sleeping with him now. After he’s turned his body into a better version of the Michelangelo statue. And maybe I am. But I just couldn’t help myself.

I don’t admit that in the back of my mind, I’ve allowed myself to keep hooking up with him for this long because I feel safe. It’s not just fun and hot. It’s something else. But I won’t allow myself to dig that deep.

Marnie has curled up in a ball at the end of the bed, her drowsy kitten eyes lazily eyeing me as I look down at her. I’ve got to leave before Clint wakes up. He’ll take this some sort of way, and I really don’t need to put myself in that position.

Moving as quietly as I can, I creep off the bed, stopping at the end to pick Marnie up and stuff her in the crook of my arm. Tip toeing out, I slowly close the door and make a clean escape without Clint waking up.

“Did you sleep in there?”

Busted. Minka stands outside the bathroom door on Clint and Owen’s side of the house, her hair pulled up into a curly brown rat’s nest. She’s gaping at me like she just saw a ghost.

“I just…it was an accident.” I can feel the sheepish grin on my face and the blush that surfaces in my cheeks. I turn to walk back to my room, aware that this little encounter may cause Clint to question my absence.

Except Minka only follows me. “So you’re sleeping over now too? What’s going on with you Kels?”

I can hear the questions in her voice. She knows me better than anyone. And right now, she knows this isn’t my typical MO.

“I told you Minks, I just fell asleep. It was an accident.”

“Why were you leaving with all of your clothes on?”

Shit, busted again. “We just talked last night and I got tired. We’re still best friends, you know. Sex doesn’t change that.”

She shakes her head. “Jesus, Kels, really? It changes everything. It already has. You know he bought that kitten for you, right? That ‘for the house’ bullshit was just a cover. I know you’re not this naive. And I also know that if I’m not mistaken, you’re catching feelings for him too.”

I scoff. “Come on, Minks. I don’t do boyfriends, you know that.”

“I do. But I think somewhere over the last month, you’ve started to break your own rules. You realize you haven’t brought anyone else home? Haven’t even looked at anyone else who doesn’t have a full black beard and piercing blue eyes?”

Her waggling eyebrows piss me off. “Are you saying this to try and scare me off? I know you never wanted me to go after him in the first place.”

Minka reaches out to hold the hand that the kitten doesn’t currently occupy. “I’m telling you this because I want you to be happy. You have a real shot of finding love here. True, decent love with an honest person. I’m telling you this because I want you to stop running. To stop hiding. Let someone love you Kelsey.”

I don’t respond. I just pretend to stroke Marnie and wait for her to leave.

“Just…think about it. Okay?” And then she’s gone. Leaving me with these thoughts and ideas that I didn’t ask for.

Everyone leaves the house in a whirlwind fashion, cleats and bats and lucky socks flying everywhere. Then they’re gone, headed to the airport in an overly stuffed cab, screaming out the windows. Clint and I don’t talk about me falling asleep in his room last night. He does ask one more time if I want to come, and I decline like I have the other six times he’s begged me to come.

Marnie and I are left in a quiet, empty house with no one to talk to and nothing to do. I try to start a Netflix marathon, but it’s just not the same without Clint’s running commentary on the stupidest of characters. I walk around aimlessly, touching random things as I go.

Minka’s words echo in my brain as I lay on my bed hours later, bored and petting Marnie who curled up and had gone to sleep on my stomach.

Something inside me has changed. I’m usually fine on my own. Better than fine, I’m usually great. I take care of myself, do what I please, no questions asked, no one to report to.

But as I’ve lived in this house these couple of short months, I’ve come to rely on the company of Owen, Minka and even Parker. And I’ve come to crave spending time with Clint. I miss them now that they’re not here. I miss the chaos and the bickering.

And I miss Clint. Thinking about not seeing him for a whole week makes me feel like there is a piece of my heart that’s detached and hopped on the 747 with him. So much so that I’m contemplating jumping on a plane and going out to join them.

What am I doing? I don’t think thoughts like this. I am a nomad, a gypsy. I make my rules, and then I break them. Damn, Minka. Putting these shitty romantic comedy thoughts in my head.

Except the loneliness sets in more as the week goes on. And I can’t seem to stem the ache in my chest each time I walk into the deserted house.