the aftermath

She stared at him openly as he slept. His chest rose and sunk slowly in a confident rhythm to match his personality. She felt his leg on top of hers and slowly snuck out from beneath him. She gingerly pulled the light blanket over her body and then turned to face him. What was she doing here. This wasn't like her at all. He somehow pulled this spontaneous, carefree woman out of her, and she didn't know where to go from here. It was 3:14am and she checked google maps to see the traffic situation to get home. 57 minutes. She sighed as she realized there was no way she could stay awake for that long on the dark road. She thought about grabbing her dress and transferring to the sofas downstairs. Would that be rude? What is considered rude in a situation like this? This new feeling was making her ill to her stomach. How to people do things like this weekly? She looked back at him sleeping soundly, not a care in the world, utterly satisfied at how the night had turned out. As her eyes traced the outline of his back she bit her lip. Maybe this is what she wanted. She laughed inwardly. The summer of no regrets, the summer of learning to let go, the summer of spontaneity. Maybe this is what that's about? The ceiling fan distributed cold air across her body as she longingly looked out towards the mountains. She didn't want to be here anymore. Although there were no regrets, she wished she were in her own bed, as many people do.

She looked at him one last time before closing her eyes.

"What are you thinking?"