The Artist — Part 3 continued, The Other Morning

I wake up. His body entangled into mine. My head is exploding with pain. I can still taste the whiskey. I remember the yelling and the crying from the night before.. But barely. I find my phone.. Screen shattered into microscopic pieces. It's 8 am–I go back to sleep.

He moved to get a sip of water. We embrace. But the mood is different. The morning light not shining quite like it did our first morning together. I can feel something is different. A lot of things happened the night before. He's probably over whelmed. Annoyed even. If he wasn't scared of me then he definitely thinks I'm crazy. We sleep.

Our phones both ringing in the background makes us shift. He starts to hold me tighter. Hands roaming. Exploring bodies that now feel familiar. He starts to kiss my neck. I press my body against his and I reach for him. These are my favorite types of mornings.

We kiss. We touch. I go down on him. I'm enjoying this. I'm prolonging it. I want him to be more forceful but he his gentle. Either he's not comfortable yet or it's just his nature. I want him to feel good. He touches my breast softly. He finishes and I climb up to his body to rest my head in the nook under his chin. I kiss his neck. He reaches down to the split of my legs and finds me. Unlike our first night together I let him touch me this time. With slow quiet moans–I express wanting to fuck him. He tells me he doesn't want to right now. He kisses my neck. I don't know how to feel. I fake finishing. We sleep.

It's noon now and I'm staring at his walls. They don't look as magical as they did a couple days ago. His room doesn't feel as welcoming. I feel like an intruder. He wakes up and asks if I want coffee. I can here him in the kitchen grinding the coffee beans.. He doesn't ask how I like my coffee–he brings it to me black. I ask for milk and he assumes I want sugar as well. He comes back in and we chat a bit. I can tell he wants to go outside to smoke so I tell him I won't think it's rude if he wants to go outside. I take that moment to gather my things and get dressed. I wash my face in the bathroom and try to make myself look decent. I look surprisingly refreshing.

He comes back in. We chat. He asks what my plans are for the day. To me this is saying.. When are are you leaving. We chat. We talk about families. We laugh a bit. Make little jokes. He's not trying to keep me here like last time. I'm texting a friend frantically to meet me at the Philz around the corner so I can leave and not wander around aimlessly. We go to the front porch. Somehow my boyfriend comes up again. I get up, we hug, and I leave. My ego wounded.

How was this so different? Did I fuck up? But I'm not the only who did. My feelings are crushed. I felt so differently about this person a week ago. I realize that if I'm going to be single and break up with my boyfriend this is what I'm going to have to deal with. I'd forgotten about the game. But I also thought he wasn't a participater of the game. His whole "thing" was about being genuine and honest and sincere. But he, in fact, is the same. I forgot that guys will be guys and people don't just meet amazingly interesting people by coincidence. I feel like Tom from 500 Days of Summer. I feel crushed.

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