Soundtrack (Scomiche)

2: Problem (Part 2)

"Every time you touch me and say you love me, I get a little bit breathless. I shouldn't want it. But it's you."

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February 15. 12:45 PM.

So I spent the last 15 minutes in the bathroom, emptying whatever I managed to eat or drink last night. I feel gross.

Scott's still sleeping. Was he more drunk than I was?

Just checked, he's still breathing. He's like a big bear, sprawled all over the bed like that. His bed. I'm still not functioning right. I literally just noticed that we are in his room, on his bed. And I am wearing his clothes. Why?

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February 15. 1:30 PM.

God, that shower felt great. My head's starting to clear now, too. My room looks untouched. Did I not go here at all?

So... Last night. I remember drinking a lot while deciding whether I should see Travis or not. I remember wanting to see Travis. I remember seeing Travis. Shit.

Checked my phone. I didn't send him any more messages. But I called him. The call log says we talked at 8:24 PM for 4 minutes, 30 seconds. That was pretty brief. Hmmm.

My phone is useless. I can't find any more clues.

Think, Mitch. What kinds of stupid did you do last night aside from seeing Travis?

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February 15. 3:00 PM.

The food must be helping me remember things. Is food supposed to do that?

Oh, it's not the food. It's being in the kitchen that helped me remember. Travis was inside the apartment, sitting on the couch while I was getting wine from the fridge.

So I let him in, I gave him wine, and considering how hungover I am, I definitely had wine with him. I must've been pretty drunk to have called him in the first place, right?

Couch... Wine... Travis...

Fuck.

I should probably drink more. I just remembered and I don't like what I'm remembering.

And I think Scott is up.

---

February 15. 4:00 PM.

Scott looks like hell. I probably would be, too, if I broke up with my boyfriend on Valentine's Day. See, I knew it. Alex was a jackass.

He's refusing to shower or eat and he doesn't want me in his room. I'll try again later.

But let's go back to Travis.

He was on the couch and I walked over to him, wine bottle in one hand, wine glasses on the other. I didn't say anything until after I've poured wine and offered him his glass. I sat beside him. We sipped our wine quietly. For how long, I don't know.

"I missed you, boo." It might not be the first thing we talked about but it's from that point on that I remember. 

I think I wanted to give a sarcastic or bitchy reply, but the alcohol had chosen to empower my desperation and thirst for intimacy. "I missed you, too, Trav."

"The past few months have been crazy hard without you, Mitch."

I fell silent. I didn't reply because I didn't share his sentiment. The breakup was hard on me, yes, but not crazy hard like he said it was on him. I loved Travis but we fought a lot, especially towards the end. It was actually kind of a relief when we broke up. No more drama. But when I told him I missed him, that was true. Sort of. We shared some really good times in the year and a half that we were together. We were great together when we weren't fighting. We shared a lot of interests. Plus, the sex was good. Like really, really good. That's probably one of the things I miss about being with him, to be honest.

I must have taken a lot of time thinking those thoughts because he took my silence as a cue and he started kissing me. He put one arm behind my neck and the other around my waist. It didn't feel like he was forcing himself on me. The kiss was soft, waiting, expecting. I was too stunned that I didn't do anything to either encourage or stop him. So he continued kissing me.

You know how I said the sex was good? Well, all the things leading to sex were good as well, such as the kissing. Maybe it was the alcohol, the longing for intimacy, the familiarity of being in his arms or a combination of the three that did it.

I wrapped both my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. I opened my mouth and let his tongue enter. We kissed until we were out of breath. Then it all went batshit crazy after that. Travis started kissing my neck while I was hungrily running my hands over his chest, down to his waist, smiling when I reached the waistband of his jeans. I wasn't thinking straight, obviously, so I also had a hard time removing his belt. It wasn't helping that Travis had moved his lips and tongue to my ears, nibbling on them.

It was at that moment Scott entered the apartment.

Crap. Speaking of Scott, I should probably check up on him first.