Kara The next day felt like I had a hangover. The birds outside my bedroom window were competing who could destroy their voice box first and, unsurprisingly, couldn't give a rat's ass if they woke me up from a dream I could barely remember now. I was contemplating throwing a pillow outside to shut them up and go back to sleep, but the knock on my door squashed that plan. "Kar?" It was Dylan. "Dad said it's time for church. You're not up yet so I'm going to use the bathroom first okay!" I heard the words, but they didn't register in my brain. Everyone in my household knew my brain was in sleep mode until I had my coffee. I got up, groaning at the slight dizziness I felt. What the hell? I didn't even drink alcohol last night, but I had a slight headache and my tongue felt furry and gross. Eyes closed I grabbed my bath towel and walked to the door, squeaking when I stepped into an empty can of beer. Oh, will you look at that. I guess I drank last night after all. Funny how some things you just choose to forget, I thought as I made my way to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee. Like last night. I almost didn't remember what happened last night. Almost. At the first sip, I felt like I was out of solitary. At half a cup, I had shed my jail clothes. At a full cup, I was out of prison. Perfect. Brain activated. I poured another cup. "Good morning, sweetheart." I had just noticed my dad at the stove, cooking something that smelled like eggs. He and Dylan took over cooking duties in the kitchen since I tend to burn everything. "Morning, Dad. I'm going to shower." "Dylan beat you to the bathroom." "Nooo." I sighed. It's going to be a steamy, wet bathroom. Dylan didn't seem to get that he was supposed to shower in the confines of the tub with the shower curtain closet and not on the floor of the bathroom. "Want toast or cereal?" he asked, looking cute in the apron I bought for him on Christmas. It had a naked picture of a bodybuilder's physique with a glittering Christmas ball covering the dingdong. "Cereal please." I sat on the island, sipped more coffee. "I didn't hear you come in last night," he said as he shook cornflakes in a bowl, poured milk and placed it in front of me. I ate a spoonful before responding. "I got home late. You were asleep." "How did it go?" I took another bite, chewed slowly. "Good," I replied carefully. "I had to talk to a... friend." "Tala?" "Nope." "You mean you have other friends other than Tala?" He chuckled teasingly. I rolled my eyes at him and turned back to my cereal. I knew he was looking at me, waiting for me to elaborate. But I couldn't. Not yet. Maybe not ever. "Tell me when you're ready, Kara Koala." I nodded, finished my breakfast as he turned to the dishes. I had other friends, I thought as I stepped into the shower. But I was the type of person who chose the people I spend time with very, very carefully. Because once I let them in, I get attached quickly. I had a strong preference for deep, long lasting relationships. Relationships that meant more than let's hang out. I only had so much time in a day and I was very careful where I invested it. Once I committed in a relationship, I made sure to carve out time to nurture it. And so, I only had very few people in my life. That was one of the many reasons why I couldn't let him in my life, I decided as I reached for my towel, dried off, and moisturized. I walked to my bedroom, reached for the hair dryer. He was going to be out of my life as soon as his motorcycle was done. So I really should stop thinking about him. Can't stop thinking about you... He'd said that to me last night. Did he mean it? My face was flushed, I realized as I looked in the mirror, getting ready to put on my makeup. Did he actually... like me? Or was he the type of guy to blurt out anything to get laid? I felt that familiar uneasy flutter in my belly at the thought. He didn't seem to be the type, but... how would I know what was real and what wasn't? I just met him. Didn't stop you from kissing him though, did it? No, I admitted, it didn't. I touched my bottom lip, rubbing it. The memory of his tongue tasting my lips was so strong I felt it. Suddenly my knees felt weak and I had to sit down on the floor. So that's what a French kiss felt like. I always wondered about it, read and researched about it, imagined it, dreamt about kissing the boy that I would fall in love with someday. But nothing prepared me to the real thing. He was... pure sėx. At first, I was nervous. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. I was as surprised as he was when I made the first move to... touch him. But the way he looked at me, the way his sharp blue eyes watched me... was irresistible. He made me feel... craved. As if he hungered for me. There was no hesitation in him—just pure confidence. He knew what he wanted, knew how to get it, and he'd show it to me. And he did. The way his lips eagerly took from me, the way his tongue played inside my mouth, the way his fingers stroked and squeezed. The way he moaned. He... enjoyed it. Or at least he looked like he did. So I didn't feel... sorry or embarrassed at that moment for what I did because he made me feel his presence, that he was there with me. He made me feel like I was the only girl in the world. The strongest urge to touch him was unstoppable. I couldn't have stopped myself even if I wanted to. Until he tried to unzip your pants, that is. Was that all he wanted... from me?