Stay

I could see the faint silhouette of his body from the blue hue of the moonlight, highlighting the taught muscles in his back as he stood from the bed. He didn't bother covering up the backside of him, letting the sheet of my bed fall to the floor as he stretched his arms above his head, rolling his neck around to let a few kinks loose.

"Can I get you anything before you leave?" I asked at the naked man above me. He was taking his sweet time gathering his clothes from the floor, trailing his boxer briefs on first before slowly wandering to look for his jeans. He stopped at the sound of my question, turning to look at me.

"Uh, don't you want me to stay?" He asked as he grabbed the jeans that were tossed over the armchair in the corner.

Oh. He was one of those.

"No," I scoffed, "You got me dinner, I got you dessert. It's a fair trade. Not to mention that I have work in the morning. So, if you don't mind," I nodded towards my bedroom door.

He sighed, standing up off the bed as he grabbed his own pair of jeans. I could tell he was a real catch by the kind of jeans he wore. They were designers. I couldn't read the label, but by the stitching on the inside pant leg and the way they had no creases told me they were definitely designer. He buttoned up one of his expensive shirts before running a hand through his hair, "Can I have your number at least?" He questioned.

"Sure, as long as you understand that I don't do relationships," I stated simply. I didn't mind having a few numbers in my catalogue. It was nice to have a few people I could depend on when I really needed that release. Sometimes I got so sexually frustrated I couldn't even land a date. That's where the numbers came in.

"A lot of girls say that," He smirked over at me, a twinkle in his shimmering blue eyes. He had that Justin Timberlake look. Clean cut, broad shoulders, lean figure, and a little bit of scruff to even it out. He wasn't anything of my type except for the fact that he had a dick.

I narrowed my eyes on him, "Then no," I replied, "You can't have my number. The door is that way," I nodded.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he grabbed the keys to his Mercedes before taking off out of my bedroom. I heard him wander past the living room before finally slamming the door to my apartment shut. I always thought guys would be excited to know they got some action without having the horrible aftermath of a girl clinging to them. He should have been ecstatic that I didn't want him to stick around.

This is how it was every other weekend, though. I'd have a long week at the office and I needed to have some fun. It wasn't easy being some big-shot editor at a magazine. I was up in the wee hours of the morning and the last one asleep, usually. I had a never-ending list of things that needed to be done by a never-ending list of idiots who followed me around every where. All for what? An overpriced apartment in the city and not much else after rent was due. Big work, little pay.

I got up from the bed, stretching before I walked across my bedroom towards the bathroom. I didn't like falling asleep with someone else's sweat on me. I glanced at the clock, seeing that it was nearing midnight. I groaned, knowing full well that I had to be in a park downtown for a photoshoot in a few hours.

I turned the shower on as hot as it could go before stepping inside. I lathered my hair with the expensive shampoo I got at a local beauty store, versus the usual grocery store brand. I inhaled the lavender fumes before letting my body relax under the steam.

It was always after that I hated it. I hated myself. Why was I like this? You know a lot of people like me go years before finding out the root of their problems were either daddy issues or abuse from a young age. I knew that had nothing to do with me, though. I was a hollow body without a soul, wandering the streets because there was a big hole in my heart that I couldn't replace. A black mass that consumed every ounce of happiness I tried to obtain. And getting sex from random, but attractive, bachelors was the easiest way to fill that void... At least for a few hours.

I could feel the tears coming. The hot tears that seemed to find me every single time I fucked a guy. I always managed to keep myself together until I got into the shower. It wasn't long until a mangled sob had left my lips, and I tugged roughly at my hair in an attempt to get me to stop. Maybe pulling my hair acted like a power switch. I could turn off the tears in an instant. Even though I knew that wasn't the case.

I slid down the tile of the shower wall, ignoring the scorching hot body that left my pale skin raw. I pulled my knees to my chest, burying my face into the small space between my legs. I tried to disappear as I continued to cry my heart out, the sobs causing me to choke on both my tears and the water pouring from the shower.

Nineteen was the hardest year. It was my first year on my own, my first year in college, and my first year without him. It was harder seeing his face every where. They were going on their first complete world tour. Every single music store I passed by had him and his stupid little friends hung up in the window, all scowling as they tried to come off as tough rockstars. The first year consisted mainly of me crying and tossing a lot of shit around my apartment.

Twenty got better, but it was a slow one. The year was long and I got my first internship at a college magazine. I worked shitty hours getting coffee for unimportant people while still taking classes. The hype from the band had died down, and I found some sort of peace from that. I still went to sleep cold, wondering if anyone would ever be able to warm me up like he could.

Twenty-One was best because of the booze. I had a real job at a real magazine and could afford to buy a bottle of wine on the rough days. I'd head home, watch some sort of cheesy sitcom while I bathed in red wine and ice cream before falling asleep. By the end of the year I had almost forgotten about him. It was then that I took my current job at Vogue as a senior editor. The day after I accepted the job, the band announced a second world-tour. I crumbled within weeks.

Now, at twenty-two, I was still completely miserable.

There wasn't enough college papers or photoshoots that could keep my mind off of him, no matter how hard I tried. He was always there. He wasn't even that famous, but it was like he was always around. It was like I had a radar for looking for him, and my mind always found him.

I brushed away the tears, pretending like it never happened. I turned off the steaming water before wrapping myself up in a large white fluffy towel. I stepped out onto the bathmat and began to dry my skin of any water before tossing my hair up in a messy bun. I didn't care that it was still wet.

I found myself unable to go back to sleep due to the chill of the night against my damp skin. I sighed, walking over to my dresser before grabbing the pack of cigarettes there. I pulled out one before opening the balcony doors, stepping outside.

I inhaled the smoke, breathing in deeply of the chemicals. I had begun to not care what I did to my body. I figured happiness would never come to me again, so why bother with anything else? I had done the best I could do, and now all I had to do was go through life numbly before dying.

I inhaled another puff of smoke as my phone started to ring. I groaned, looking down at the screen to see Grace's name light up. She called every once in a while to ask how I was doing, trying to repair the damage she had done to me growing up. We were as close sisters could be while only speaking over the phone. She had a job, went to school, and took care of Mom when needed.

Every time Grace called she would try to inform me what was happening in Huntington. She'd mention Matt being home from tour, or that he was still single. Every time our conversations ended with her apologizing and me yelling at her before hanging up. I was too emotionally unstable to argue with her at the moment, despite her calling me several times. Still, I turned my phone on silent before tossing it aside.

I took a final drag of my cigarette, inhaling the last of the fumes before tossing it over the balcony. I looked up at the cloudy sky. Rain was due the following day, and I had several photoshoots to tend to. I wanted desperately to focus on what I was going to wear and which intern I was going to make cry, but my thoughts would wander back to him.

They always wandered back to him.

I huffed, spinning on my heels before heading back into my apartment, sliding the glass door shut before glancing at the clock. Two in the morning. I had to be up in a few hours to get ready before heading towards downtown to meet my models and stylists for an upcoming article.

I slid under the covers, forgetting that a few moments ago another man was lying there with me. I had forgotten the way his hands caressed my sides, because I could only remember the way one man touched me. I forgot about the way he placed his lips on my neck, because I was taken back to the mornings when another man would kiss my neck tenderly. Instead, I wrapped myself up in the covers I wished I shared with the man who plagued my thoughts.

And I wondered if I would ever be whole again.