Falling is the easy part (Camren)

7

Lauren:

I slammed my book shut and let out a frustrated sigh, earning myself a couple of bitchy looks from people around me. Oh go fuck yourself. It's only a shitting library. It's not like I'm shouting and screaming is it?

I hadn't been able to focus all day. Well, not on my work anyway. The same thing kept running through my head. The same person. Over and over again. My mind just kept going back to her. The day hadn't exactly started well either. I'd woken up determined to put the weekend behind me, and forget all about her, but obviously the universe had wasn't planning on letting me get over it that easily. As soon as I entered the living room this morning, rushing around looking for my work, Jay had piped up from the sofa, spoon full of cereal half way to his mouth.

"You might wanna think about wearing a different top babe?" I'd just frowned at him, not understanding what was wrong with what I was wearing. He grinned. "The love bites are bad enough, but explaining the massive scratch marks on your shoulders might be a challenge?"

I'd bounded back into the bathroom to inspect myself. Sure enough there were several long red lines scored into my skin standing out visibly in my vest top. Fucking hell. It had taken me ten minutes trying to cover up the huge love bite she'd left on my neck, but now these. Jay was right, I didn't want to have to tell all to people in my lectures. The less I had to talk about it the better. I'd grabbed a shirt to throw on over the top and Jay grinned at me again.

"At least you know she musta enjoyed herself hey?" He muttered with a mouthful of Coco Pops. "It's always a good sign when you wake up with claw marks like that." I'd thrown a cushion at him before leaving the flat quickly, realising that thanks to her and her stupid marks I was late for my personal tutorial.

And now here I was trying desperately to catch up on all the work I should have done at the weekend and not think about what I'd done instead. Or who I'd done instead. It's fricking impossible. Every time I catch a glimpse of black hair my mind goes back to hers all sprawled out on my pillow on Sunday morning. I swear I keep seeing her everywhere. In my seminar this morning, in the queue for coffee, waiting for a bus on Marlin Road, even now in the library, I thought I'd seen her sat on the floor in one of the aisles of shelves. It wasn't her though. None of them had been. Nope, I'm fairly sure I'm never gonna see her again.

At least I didn't lend her one of my best hoodies. I'm probably never gunna get that grey one back am I?

I'm not even sure if I want to see her again. Well, the part of me that's run by my sex drive wants to see her again, preferably naked and totally willing to go at it again, but the rest of me, the part that's under my brain's control, can't decide. I keep telling myself that she's just confused, that's why she acted the way she did. That it's nothing to do with me, she was just freaked out about having had sex with a girl, I can understand that, honestly I can, and I get why maybe she just needed to get out of my flat to think. But did she really have to be so cold?

I mean she acted like I've done something really terrible to her. Like I've attacked her or something. Which ain't true. Obviously. If anything I did the complete opposite to her. I gave her multiple orgasms, surely that ain't terrible, surely that's the complete opposite of terrible. Well in my eyes it is.

And she can't deny that either. What was it Jay had said this morning when he saw those scratches on my back, that she must have enjoyed it. She'd clawed at my back whilst begging for release, begging me to touch her, moaning when I did. She wasn't pretending. She can't have hated it if that was her reaction. I know that much about girls to know that no girl is that good at pretending.

But, yet, she was still a fucking ice queen in the morning. Giving nothing away, hiding, running away from me as fast as she fucking could.

What we'd done wasn't the bad was it?