It Takes More

I could feel the sun on my bare skin as it burned behind my eyelids. Squeezing my eyes tight, I attempted to block the sun that was no doubt filtering through my window. Moving my arm to shield my eyes further, my hand slapped against something beneath me, something other than my soft mattress.

Confused, I peeked my eyes open, squinting in the blinding light to find a bare chest beneath my own. Slowly, I lifted my head to look up at the boy who I assumed to be Asher.

The first sign I had that the boy lying with me was not my boyfriend was the chain resting on his slightly hairy chest. First off, Asher’s chest was clean-shaven—not a hair in sight; bare. Secondly, Asher didn’t wear jewelry, ever.

After hesitating on the silver chain glistening in the sunlight, my eyes moved upward to meet the faintly stubbled chin—a chin that could only belong to one person.

As carefully as I could, I slipped out from the arm that was clutching me to his side. Standing up, I surveyed the room that I had thought was my own, realizing it was another hotel room. Scrambling and as quiet as possible, I found my bra and panties and slid into my dress, hastily zipping it up as I ran for the door.

Without looking back at Alex’s sleeping form, I fled the hotel—making my second morning after get-a-way in the previous night’s clothes in less than a week.

Thankfully, this time when I got home no one was waiting for me. I slipped past Marla’s cracked door—her and Jack fast asleep on top of the sheets, fully clothed—and into my own room.

Stripping, I ran to the bathroom, desperate to shower and rid myself of any reminder of what I had done. I let my tears of regret, heartbreak, and misplaced love mix with the steamy water from the showerhead as it washed away the sick, clammy feeling I had held from the moment I stepped out of bed that morning.



“Elena? Is that you?” Jack called from the kitchen as I walked down the hall, my hair still wet from my recent shower.

“Yeah. Are you cooking?” I asked in disbelief as I entered the kitchenette.

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Maybe ‘cause you’ve never cooked anything other than ramen or Mac ‘n cheese,” I offered as an explanation.

“She’s right, babe,” Marla said as she walked past me, wrapping her arms around Jack’s waist as she laid her head against his back.

“Okay, fine.” He pouted. “Maybe me and Alex have been learning how to cook,” he said sheepishly, a light pink covering his cheekbones. I tried to ignore my stomach tightening and the pang in my chest at the mention of Alex.

“Hey, ‘Lena. You okay? You look kinda pale,” Marla observed.

“Uh—yeah. I’m f-fine,” I lied. She shrugged her shoulders, accepting my words at face value. “I’ve got to go meet Ash,” I said shakily as I walked toward the door. “Catch you guys later?”