A Big Empty House

A part of me felt a little bad about how we'd treated Lucas. Not going to deny that it was fun, but still we'd teased and tempted and put him into a hard place. Ideally a very, very hard place.

And he hadn't really done anything to deserve that.

So that was definitely in the back of my head when I headed downstairs to grab coffee. And rather than try to solve it in some kind of actionable way instead I tiptoed down hallways and peeked around every corner in the hopes that I could get down, get my coffee, and get back up to my room without having to have yet another intense encounter with the man.

Turns out I didn't need to worry.

Emily,

In case you came looking for me thought you should know that a last-minute contract came up and I had to head out of town for work. I'll be gone less than a day in total, back tomorrow evening sometime.

Just make sure you lock up and don't burn the place down or anything. Oh and if you're going to have any wild and crazy parties be sure to have fun.

But seriously, don't destroy my house.

Lucas

He'd left the note folded and set out right in front of the coffee maker where there was no way for me to miss it. I read through it twice, absolutely baffled at the timeline and how exactly he'd managed to find this 'last-minute contract' when I had just seen him yesterday.

And I suppose we were all in less of a speaking mood last night so it's reasonable it could have not come up in conversation, but there was a part of me that was pretty sure Lucas had just bailed to head out to a hotel for the night so that he could get some peace and quiet and rest without having his nubile little co-ed tenant try to tempt him again.

I mean I hadn't been the one driving that forward last night, but still if he wanted to be a gentleman then avoiding me and this place entirely would do the trick.

As I sip my coffee, though, I can't help but be a little hurt by the whole thing. I mean maybe if it was me and Rachel encountering his letter together or maybe if it was me and Lucas sipping coffee while talking about the crazy girl that I'd brought home last night things would be different, but as it stood at the moment I'd gone from a full bed and a busy house to standing all alone with only two letters of apology to keep me company.

Something like that is bound to make a girl feel like she's done something wrong.

So I squirm as I sip slowly and let the by now lukewarm coffee infuse into my cells. I polish off one cup and then another, leaning against the counter in the kitchen and just sort of staring into the middle distance as my brain worries its way away at the absence of fond friends.

Maybe that's what I need, the distraction that is. Because the distraction makes it easy for me to not notice until it's already happening how good I feel.

By now I'm awake and the trembling natural thrills of this body are starting to meet the twitching high of caffeine. When I move to the coffee maker to pour myself a third cup the movement is so smooth and fluid that it actually gives me pause, makes me gasp a little and then let a smile play at the corners of my mouth as my focus shifts from self-pity to awareness of myself.

The sensation of being her. The curl of my fingers around the handle of the pot. The heft of it as I lift it and pour and the sight and the sound of the stream as it fills my cup.

The smell of it. The taste warm and slightly bitter on my tongue. Almost savory and undoubtedly smooth, lingering after my swallow as it focuses on the sides and back of my tongue before it fades away into a warmth that spreads within me.

The sensations, oh god the sensations.

The joy of being me.

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