Chapter 63

Clarity. Fucking clarity.

I opened my eyes slowly, adapting my pupils to the light spreading into the room, and stayed like that for a while: wondering if I should turn over and go back to sleep, feeling every part of my body complaining of tiredness (and some specific parts complaining of pain), or just staring into nothingness.

I heard a soft squawk interrupt the divine silence, and lazily closed my eyes. It seemed that someone was already up to something downstairs. And that someone could only be Steve, who was no longer beside me, as his place on the bed was empty from what my hands could feel.

Suddenly, everything flashed into my mind. Nightmare. Downstairs. Kitchen. Strawberries. Counter.

Nicholas.

I found myself sitting up the next instant, disheveled and heart racing. So it had really been true. I hadn't imagined or dreamed any of it. I could never invent something with that degree of reality, that made me gasp just remembering it.

I propped my elbows on my bent knees, buried my fingers in my hair, and laid my head on my palms. I closed my eyes, feeling the drowsiness come back over me and the pain from the sudden movements, and shook my head slightly in denial. Disapproving of my attitude, and at the same time, totally defeated in the fight against it. It was simply impossible to resist the mere memory of everything I was desperately trying to refuse.

"Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time. "I heard Steve humming from downstairs, clearly trying not to wake me up, but the silence was such that even his whispers were perfectly audible.

I tried to smile weakly, imagining his happy face, but I couldn't. I felt hollow, without emotions. I felt hollow, emotionless. Everything seemed automatic, programmed, coldly calculated, as if it were an absolute truth: I loved Steve, but my body, my instincts, a cry deep in my soul was calling for Nicholas. And this cry was so deafening that it completely overwhelmed me, it made me lose my sense of anything... It only went silent when I was with him.

I lay down again, or rather, I threw my torso heavily back on the bed, staring at nothing, and let a sigh escape my lungs, denouncing my despair. The memories of the night before were still more than fresh in my mind, but I didn't want to let them get to me. I felt extremely dirty for having fallen into temptation again, but somehow the pain was no longer so suffocating, and the guilt seemed less, even if only a little. If I had any sense at all, the opposite would be happening, and it would be almost impossible to breathe, such was the weight of my remorse. But the feeling of being with Nicholas, having his warm and soft skin against mine, feeling his strength pulling me closer to him, his perfume enveloping me, suffocating me, like some kind of lethal gas, chilled my whole body and accelerated my heart as never before. Apparently I was right about my own character: I really was no good.

I let my eyes drift across the white ceiling, quickly passing through the acceptance phase and concentrating on deciding what to do from then on. Why beat myself up over something irreversible, no matter how much it still hurt me? There was no use crying over spilled milk; running to slit my wrists or facing the situation with the minimum of maturity it required would not erase what had happened the night before.

So I just took a deep breath, letting the oxygen drown the images of Nicholas from my mind, and made a decision: I needed to keep myself whole, even if only outwardly, for one single, essential reason in my life. Steve. From this moment on, I had to be firm, and this time, for real. I had already let three slip-ups happen, and if I really intended to stand firm in my decision, I could never allow a situation like this to happen again. From that day on, I would no longer think about him, or even let the mere memory or presence of him affect me.

I would not let it happen again.

I spent several minutes mentally repeating that same sentence, and slowly stood up, feeling my tired muscles complain in vain. As I walked to the bathroom, I remembered what I had told Nicholas a few hours ago. Half of me could not be without the other half. One was not complete without the other. I stopped in front of the mirror, staring at my drowsy reflection, and sighed again, pushing my choice down my throat. It might take a few days, but I wouldn't let anything change my decision now that I had chosen what I wanted. At first, I might need a little more self-control to keep my mind off him, but in the end, I would survive. After all, why did I need two men when one already gave me everything I needed? Why would I need sex when I already had a perfect boyfriend?

I took a quick shower, eliminating any and all physical traces of Nicholas's presence last night that still survived on my skin, and brushed my teeth, still maintaining my determined and optimistic mood. I put on a tank top and pajama shorts, combed my hair, and let out one last sigh before heading downstairs.