Th*rsty (Scomiche)

I'm Not The Only One (Part 3)

A/N: THIS FOUR-PART ONE-SHOT NOW HAS ITS OWN BOOK, although the story has been edited and is no longer exactly the same.

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"I wish this would be over now."

I'm Not The Only One by Sam Smith

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I walked over the kitchen counter and looked at the Starbucks cups sitting there. The cups had no names but I had a pretty good idea of who brought them over. And as much as I loved coffee, I had this cynical thought that the cups were now poisoned.

Sorry, loves. I took the lid off each of the cups and poured all the contents down the sink, then put the empty cups in the trash.

I leaned on the kitchen counter, deciding on my next step of action. This is bad. And good. Bad because if I were in his shoes I'd be crushed. Good because now he knows. He must know, right? He probably saw us.

Despite how fucked up the situation was, I couldn't help but smile. This is what I've been waiting for. Not how I wanted things to go down, but the end result is the same. I don't have to share Scott anymore.

I made my way back to my room and turned the knob silently. I didn't go inside immediately; I rested my body on the frame and took in the naked beauty who was occupying practically the whole of my bed, and definitely every inch of my heart. He was sleeping peacefully and he looked like an angel. But he's not.

With that thought the guilt started creeping up my spine, pricking my skin and making me feel uncomfortable. I shook my head and tried to dismiss the negative thoughts. I walked over to the bed and lay beside Scott, facing him.

"Mmmm..." He murmured.

"Good morning, babe," I whispered.

He opened an eye and squinted. When he saw me, his lids flew open like iced water had been poured over him. "Shit!" He sat up, eyes darting around the room.

I sat up, too. "Hey... What's wrong?" I asked as my hand reached for his arm.

"What time is it?”

I grabbed my phone and looked at the time. “Ten minutes past 9 o’clock.”

He put his hands on his cheeks and practically scrubbed off his face. “Why didn't you wake me up?! I shouldn't have stayed here!" He yelled as he stood up.

The smile was instantly wiped off my face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was my job to do that.”

“We shouldn't have slept in. Don’t you have an alarm?!” He started to gather his clothes from the floor. “Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed as he hopped on one foot and put on his underwear.

“Oh, forgive me. I didn’t mean to sleep in. It’s just that I was little tired from repeatedly getting fucked last night.” Every word spewing out of my mouth was laced with sarcasm.

He glared at me before putting his shirt over his head. He started walking out of the room, his steps heavy.

“What are you so afraid of? For Alex to see you in bed with me? Cause he probably just did.”

Scott stopped in his tracks and abruptly spun around. “What??”

“I saw three Starbucks cups on the kitchen counter earlier. He has a key, right?”

“Tell me you’re kidding. You’re fucking kidding, right??”

"I'm not," I said flatly.

"Great. Just… Goddammit," he cursed, walking out and slamming the door behind him.