“Good morning,” came his rumbly morning voice, and my eyes moved down to see that his had opened, and he was smiling at me.
“It really is,” I agreed. The sun was extra shiny; I was quite certain. That was why the birds were even chirpier than normal. And I was absolutely ravenous. It was a shame we’d devoured all the steak last night, because some of that with some eggs would be just the protein boost we needed for a second round this morning. Although—I winced—Anastasia never seemed to be quite this sore after an aerobic sex workout.
This led me to two conclusions. One, I needed to practice more yoga. Two, Grey’s dick must have had nothing on Marc’s.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“Coffee,” he agreed. I didn’t exactly leap from the bed (those sore quads and all), but I damn well did in my mind. In my mind, in fact, it was like Cinderella being dressed and serenaded by all the little creatures of the forest. Once in the kitchen, I spun around as I filled the reservoir and dumped in grounds. I was so happy. I was sublimely, perfectly happy. I was—oh fuck.
I was in love.
My perfect mood was shattered immediately. I was in love with a man that I’d just slept with in order to prepare him to sleep with other women. What was I thinking? Scarlet had warned me. Hell, I’d basically warned myself the previous night. Why else would I have been so jealous lately? Of course I’d been developing feelings. And of course I’d fall for him once we’d slept together.
After all, the whole thing about me only having slept with the two old boyfriends had another logical conclusion. I hadn’t sought out any other sexual partners because I was only interested in sleeping with people I cared for.
Where was my inner therapist before I’d let things get this far?
A cloud passed over the sun, and it seemed like a metaphor for my entire life. If I were still Cinderella, this would be about the time that the coach turned back into a pumpkin. Idiot, I thought to myself. I had thought before then that most of my bad ideas were not the ones that stuck. Like the time I thought perhaps I could launch a new comic called Supercomic, where the main character borrowed any power she needed any time she needed it. Lizzie reminded me about copyrights, and it didn’t even get as far as a rough sketch.
There was my plan to go back to college and get a degree in accounting. I hatched that one after paying my old neighbor Dean to do my taxes. It died a quick death when Lizzie reminded me that I went to art school to avoid math classes.
There was the occasional hangover, twice giving my number to cute guys that turned out to be a real creeps, and the time I ate a suspect leftover taco and gave myself a nice dose of food poisoning. You know, the normal kind of bad decisions. Not so, this. This was a whole new level of bad choice I’d made for myself.
This was the kind of thing that hung around. And I strongly suspected that heartache might take longer to get rid of than a little salmonella.
I was fretting so much I barely noticed Marc stumble into the kitchen until he spoke. “So we actually did it!” He held up his large hand, the hand that had brought me to the edges of the known universe last night, and awaited a high five.
“We did it!” I said brightly. I mean, I might have been in the depths of despair, but I wasn’t about to explain my twisted thought processes to him. Plus, super embarrassing to tell a guy you just banged the one time that you’re afraid you are deeply in love with him. The horror! No, the only way to get out of this one was to fake sick. I made a weird face at him and pointed at the coffeemaker.
“Dude, I think I might have a migraine coming on. I’m gonna go lay down for a while. Coffee’s ready whenever, though.” I’d never had a migraine in my life, but unless my treacherous posse of ladies showed up to out me, Marc would never know.
“Do you want anything? You can lay in my bed if you want.” Of course he wouldn’t make this easy. The problem with falling for a nice guy is that they’re nice. Note to self: only fall for douches who could make it easy to recover.
“Nah. Thanks though. I’m just going to grab a glass of water and try to sleep for a little longer.” I wondered if he’d notice if I snuck the Lucky Charms under my shirt, too. After all, a little man trouble doesn’t sway this girl’s appetite. It felt risky, though, so I resigned myself to waiting until he was in the shower to sneak food. Damn it.
Back in my room, I did try to go back to sleep for a little while. Too much was running through my head for me to get any actual rest, though. I opened my computer and closed it several times. Finally, I pulled out my Screwmates notebook. I needed to draw through my feelings. Or at least draw some better ones for myself. Or… well, hell. I just needed to draw. It was my safe space, my meditation. And I was not about to let a man put me behind on my self-imposed deadlines.
First, I drew the two main characters, Maddy and Markus, having dinner. Just like last night, Markus cooked a feast. Not quite like last night, Maddy swept the dishes off the table and banged him on it. Tastefully, of course. Well, that was certainly a keeper.
I ripped the page out and put it in my “to be inked” pile.
Next up was the morning after. Even in the comic’s torrid alternate reality, I’d never had the two Other M’s wake up in bed together. They’d always gone back “home”, so to speak. But this time, I drew it differently. First one head pops out from under a wrinkled sheet, then the other. In this episode, Maddy asks Markus to be her boyfriend. First he accepts—then he heads back under the covers, if you know what I mean.
I stared at the page, blinking through the tears that had suddenly formed. That wasn’t the way it would happen in real life. In real life, he would say no. After all, he was leaving. This was just a sex thing. And then worst of all, he’d probably give me a hug. He’d be sympathetic.
And I would actually die of humiliation. Legitimately die. That was not going in the comic. I crumpled up the page and threw it on the floor.
Sketch, sketch, sketch. Erase, erase, erase. I worked for another half hour, and then looked over what I’d drawn. In this version of the episode, Markus tells Maddy he has something to show her. It’s a rocket ship, and not at all based on the shape of the magnificent rocket in Marc’s pants. Nope, not at all. Okay, fine, it’s a perfect replica. They hop inside and bang for several light years, finally landing in a world where there is no Paris.
Not even a Martian equivalent. In that episode, Markus asks her to go steady.
Go steady? Gross. My comic had suddenly gone 1960’s scifi. No way was that going to fly with my readers. I crumpled that one up and tossed it, too. I flopped back into my pillows and groaned, scrubbing my fists over my eyes. Just a sex thing, I reminded myself for the eight billionth time. Just a sex thing.