Caught in the afterglow, I have no way of knowing which was is up and which is down. My brain is nothing by white-noise. My body is a pleasant goo.
Neil’s spend is hot on my torso. His breathing is labored.
When he says, “f**k,” again, it sounds less sexy, and more really pissed off.
“Neil?”
“What the hell did I do?”
He reaches forward and snatches the shirt away from my eyes. I blink against the sudden blinding lights in the room. He wipes his spend away from my skin with his shirt and then steps off the bed.
I never get to catch a peak of what he’s carrying. He’s already tucked away with his zipper up.
He walks straight to the trash can and throws the soiled shirt away. I could have washed it, but I don’t mention that now.
He pushes his hands through his hair as if he’s trying to
