A Player With a Game
XII
I woke up, removing myself from Matt's chest. I grabbed my pink robe, wrapping it around me.
Why was I so different last night?
I was full of passion, and Matt himself was the one that had to make me stop. Thankfully, he didn't let me get past kissing him and running my fingers through his hair, and he himself looked as if it was far too difficult to hold back. I walked up my long stairs, making my way into my room and locking the door behind me, something I'd made a habit. I grabbed a towel and walked into the bathroom, undressing myself.
My thoughts quickly jumped to Matt's ex-wife. Could that have been any more odd? I asked myself what brought her to come to me, what brought him to tell her about me, and what on earth was she doing there in the first place.
I shook my thoughts, knowing that if I kept thinking so roughly I would end up feeling even worse about myself. I didn't know what made me trust Matt so much. He is a man, after all. And as sexist as that sounds, I'd learned from other people's relationships that men can sometimes hurt the ones that they "love".
And women.
But the men I had hurt about were sex craving animals. Didn't care who they got it from.
But Matt was different. Well, either he was different or he was a hell of an actor. But I was slowly realizing that as much as I told him that I loved him, no words could describe how I really felt about him. I wanted to be his and only his. I felt that jealousy in my heart that you hear about in movies. The passionate jealousy.
I walked out of the shower, wrapping my towel around myself and walking into my warm room. I wore a pink, short, summery dress with a pair of military boots. I didn't understand what on earth had driven me to become so girly, so feminine. I was used to sweats and pajamas. All of a sudden I was wearing nightgowns and perfume. I even made my curly hair straight, soft, and somewhat curled at the ends. I bothered to apply makeup to my super clean face. I didn't care, I was doing it all for him.
I heard the shower from downstairs running as I walked down my steep steps. I was always somewhat of a klutz, but even knowing that, I made my trips up and down the steps seem like races. Unless there was company, and that company was Matt. As much as I'd love for Matt to take care of me once again, holding me in his arms, I'd rather not have any broken bones...
Or embarrassing falls that he'd feel he couldn't laugh about.
So I took my time walking down the steps. I didn't know what to do, so I battled with either sitting on the couch with my legs crossed or making pretend I was looking for something to watch on TV. So I finally decided to sit on the couch but was surprised when I turned and found Matt standing before me with a towel wrapped around his lower body, slightly revealing the two lines that lead to his covered parts. I gulped, turning back around and attempting not to fall over. I heard him laugh and his footsteps getting farther and farther away from me.
Why was I so different last night?
I was full of passion, and Matt himself was the one that had to make me stop. Thankfully, he didn't let me get past kissing him and running my fingers through his hair, and he himself looked as if it was far too difficult to hold back. I walked up my long stairs, making my way into my room and locking the door behind me, something I'd made a habit. I grabbed a towel and walked into the bathroom, undressing myself.
My thoughts quickly jumped to Matt's ex-wife. Could that have been any more odd? I asked myself what brought her to come to me, what brought him to tell her about me, and what on earth was she doing there in the first place.
I shook my thoughts, knowing that if I kept thinking so roughly I would end up feeling even worse about myself. I didn't know what made me trust Matt so much. He is a man, after all. And as sexist as that sounds, I'd learned from other people's relationships that men can sometimes hurt the ones that they "love".
And women.
But the men I had hurt about were sex craving animals. Didn't care who they got it from.
But Matt was different. Well, either he was different or he was a hell of an actor. But I was slowly realizing that as much as I told him that I loved him, no words could describe how I really felt about him. I wanted to be his and only his. I felt that jealousy in my heart that you hear about in movies. The passionate jealousy.
I walked out of the shower, wrapping my towel around myself and walking into my warm room. I wore a pink, short, summery dress with a pair of military boots. I didn't understand what on earth had driven me to become so girly, so feminine. I was used to sweats and pajamas. All of a sudden I was wearing nightgowns and perfume. I even made my curly hair straight, soft, and somewhat curled at the ends. I bothered to apply makeup to my super clean face. I didn't care, I was doing it all for him.
I heard the shower from downstairs running as I walked down my steep steps. I was always somewhat of a klutz, but even knowing that, I made my trips up and down the steps seem like races. Unless there was company, and that company was Matt. As much as I'd love for Matt to take care of me once again, holding me in his arms, I'd rather not have any broken bones...
Or embarrassing falls that he'd feel he couldn't laugh about.
So I took my time walking down the steps. I didn't know what to do, so I battled with either sitting on the couch with my legs crossed or making pretend I was looking for something to watch on TV. So I finally decided to sit on the couch but was surprised when I turned and found Matt standing before me with a towel wrapped around his lower body, slightly revealing the two lines that lead to his covered parts. I gulped, turning back around and attempting not to fall over. I heard him laugh and his footsteps getting farther and farther away from me.