(Now) Kinsley: Distraction

How about a Kinsley bonus? I've been in a huge writing mood lately, and that means more posts for you! I'll have a main storyline post up on Wednesday at 6am CST, and then another Kinsley post up Friday morning.
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The first thing I felt when I woke up early the next morning was awful.  My mouth felt like it was full of steel wool.  Rusty, moldy, foul-tasting steel wool.  My head felt like someone was using a chainsaw on my skull.  My eyes were scratchy, my throat was raw, and my stomach was still not back to normal.

The first thing I thought when I woke up was "oh shit, what the fuck did I do last night?"  You know that immediate, sinking feeling of shame that accompanies waking up hungover, even before you remember exactly what it was you did that made you look like an idiot?  Yeah.

I rolled over and reached for the glass of water I spied on my nightstand.  As soon as I saw it, the foggy, patchy events of last night came rushing back to me.  I groaned out loud as I remembered Cole taking my shoes off, dragging me upstairs, and holding my hair back while I exorcised my alcoholic demons.  "Fuuuck," I muttered to myself.  I remembered his actions and his presence, but I couldn't remember any of the things we'd talked about.  Assuming, of course, that we'd talked at some point between him picking me up and leaving.

I grabbed the glass and drank half of it.  It was room temperature, but at that moment I didn't even care.  I got up and stumbled to the bathroom, peed, brushed my teeth, and dug through the cabinet for some tylenol.  I swallowed two with water from the faucet, and then went back to my room.  I looked down, realizing I was still in my clothes from the night before.  I peeled them off and climbed back into bed.

After tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable for what felt like a really long time, I finally fell back to sleep.  When I woke up again several hours later, I felt considerably better.  I was thankful for my tendency to wake up super early when I've been drinking, because getting up and drinking some water and taking tylenol always helps.

I hauled my sorry ass into the shower, and by the time I was dressed in yoga pants and a t-shirt I felt almost human again.  I made my way downstairs and found my purse on the floor by door.  I fished my phone out of it, discovered it was dead, and plugged it in.  Not even 10 minutes after I'd sat down on the couch, my phone vibrated.  I leaned across the couch and saw that it was a text from Cole.  Anxiety washed over me as I opened the text and read it.  "How are you feeling today?  Hopefully not too bad.  You were pretty strongly against lunch last night, but if you've changed your mind, the offer stands."

I tried to remember having a conversation with him about lunch, but nothing came to mind.  Even so, I considered just deleting his message and pretending it hadn't happened.  He'd seen me throwing up, for fuck's sake.  On the other hand, he'd made sure I got home safely, made sure my hair made it safely through my puke-fest, and had remained a gentleman (as far as I remembered) the whole time.  The least I could do is have lunch with the poor guy.

So I texted him back, "I feel far better than I deserve to after last night's shit show.  I'm starving, and I can't remember why I said no to lunch, so I guess it's your lucky day!"

"Hangover food of choice?" he responded, not even a minute later.

"Chinese.  I need about a half hour or so to get ready."

It was 11:50, so we made plans for him to pick me up at 12:30.  I really, really didn't want to see him after last night, but I was hungry, and he had been kind of amazing.  Since I had already showered, I just needed to do something with  my hair and put some makeup on.  I changed quickly into a pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt, yanked a brush through my hair, and brushed my teeth again.  I inspected my hair, which badly need a cut and new highlights, and twisted it into a loose, messy French braid.  Then I put on just enough makeup so that I looked hot, but not so much that it looked like I was putting in too much effort for a lunch date with the guy that picked my drunk ass up from the bar last night.

I was still searching for shoes when Cole rang my doorbell at 12:32.  I pulled open the door and greeted him briefly, acting overly casual to account for the embarrassment I still felt.  I grabbed a pair of flat t-strap sandals and sat down to put them on.  "Need some help?" Cole asked, smirking a little.

"No, believe it or not, I'm usually perfectly capable of putting on and taking off my own shoes."

"Good, because putting pieces of clothing on a beautiful woman isn't nearly as fun as taking them off," he replied.  I have to admit that I was surprised he was flirting after my ridiculous performance last night.

"Well, if you want a redo, I'll let you take them off again later, and maybe you'll actually get something out of your efforts this time," I replied, falling easily into the familiar flirting pattern.

"Maybe?" he asked.  "You were pretty eager last night."

"Shut up," I retorted.  "I'd like to pretend last night didn't happen."  I finished with my shoes, grabbed my purse, and stood up.

"I'm actually surprised you even responded to my text, much less agreed to lunch," he replied, pulling my front door open and holding it while I walked out.  "You were pretty embarrassed, even last night."

"Yes, well, I do have some shame," I said.  He pulled my front door shut but didn't move out of the way, so I had to brush against him to get at the door to lock it.  "Close enough?" I asked, leaning slightly closer.

"Not yet," he replied.  He shifted closer and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.  Then he leaned towards me, and I thought for a second that he might just go ahead and kiss me right here.  Instead, he put his mouth close to my ear and said, "Now I am."  His lips barely brushed my earlobe and I shivered.

I leaned back and rolled my eyes.  "Let's go, Suave.  I'm starving."  He chuckled and motioned for me to go ahead.  I walked down the 3 steps and down the sidewalk to his car.  "Enjoying the view?" I called over my shoulder.

"You know it," he said.  God, he could be such a fucking sleaze sometimes.  But really, "fucking sleaze" is my type, so I guess that was a good call on his part.  Last night's niceness was definitely an unusual thing for him.  Not that he's a total dick, but he definitely relies on his good looks and doesn't feel the need to do much more than that.

Once we were in the car, he said, "I have to admit, I'm a little curious what happened with the boyfriend."

"We broke up," I said bluntly.  "That's what happened."

"Got bored?"

I sighed.  He could be more stubborn than me, so I decided to just tell him.  "No, he's married to his family.  They all live in the area and he constantly wanted us to do things with them.  Which was fine, except that I suck at communicating and didn't tell him when enough was enough.  And then I got pissed, and he got all hurt that I wasn't telling him, and he said he couldn't trust that I'd communicate with him and he didn't want to always be wondering if I was resentful of hanging out with his family.  Then he told me he needed to time to think and kept me hanging for a week, and that was the end of that, because I don't fucking wait around."

"That's rough," he said sympathetically.  Ugh, stop being nice.  I might have to provoke him.

"It's fine," I responded.  "His younger sister is a wretched princess anyway so I'm glad to be rid of her."

"Yep, you're so glad about it all that you're out getting wasted and booty-calling people."

I glared at him.  "If you don't move on from this conversation, I will most certainly not be booty-calling you ever again," I promised.

"So it was a booty call?" he asked, smirking.

"I think I made that pretty clear, did I not?" I asked, exasperated.  "You are very quickly making me regret it, though."

"I'm sorry, would you prefer if I just sat here quietly and looked pretty?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied.  "You can pay for my lunch too."

He laughed.  "Man, I've missed you," he said.  "My new job isn't the same without your attitude."  He slid his eyes towards me and smirked and added, "And your ass."

"Do you talk this incessantly during sex too?" I asked, leaning my head back against the supple leather headrest and closing my eyes.  "I think my headache is coming back.  And I might have liked you better when you were being a gentleman last night."

"Didn't know I had it in me, did you?" he asked.

"I really didn't," I replied.  "If I wasn't so drunk I would have demanded to know what was wrong with you."

"I'm full of surprises," he said, cocking an eyebrow at me as he parked.

I snorted.  "I doubt it."

Our lunch was full of both flirtatious and sarcastic banter.  He paid, even though I did actually try to pay for my own.  On the drive back to my house, he draped his right arm casually across the center console and lightly drew random patterns on my bare thigh with his middle finger.  By the time we got back to my house, I was pretty much ready to just take my clothes off right there in the car.

"Are you coming in?" I asked him.

"Am I invited?" he asked in response.

I rolled my eyes.  "Is 'are you coming in?' not invitation enough for you?  Consider this your formal invitation to come inside and have sex with me."

"God, you're charming," he said, laughing.  "Let's go, then."  As we walked up the sidewalk to my house, he slid his arm around my waist and gripped my hip possessively.  While I unlocked my door, his fingers slipped beneath the hem of my shirt and stroked the bare skin above the waistband of my shorts.

The door was barely closed behind me when I turned to face him, grabbed his forearms, and pulled his body against mine.  His hands wrapped around my hips as his lips crashed against mine, and I almost moaned when they slid over my hips and tightened on my ass.  He lifted me easily and walked over to the couch, settling me in his lap as he sat, his mouth never leaving mine.

His hands traveled down my legs, then back up, over my hips, and up my back.  He grabbed a handful of hair at the back of my head with one hand and tilted my head back, then moved his mouth to my throat.  I groaned as he sucked lightly, then used his grip on my hair to tilt my head to the side.  He moved up the side of my neck, switching among licking, sucking, and gently biting.  When he got to my ear, he stopped and whispered, "You're so fucking hot."  I felt a flash of annoyance, and for a second I missed being told I was beautiful instead of hot.  Not that I wanted Cole to tell me I was beautiful.  That would just be weird.

I was getting impatient, so I sped things up by starting to peel off pieces of clothing.  That got things moving in the direction I wanted.  When his mouth started to move down my stomach, though, I stiffened a little.  Oral sex is something I consider to be far more intimate than actual sex, and something I don't usually do with guys unless I'm dating them.

"Wait," I said, as he nipped at my hipbone.  "I don't think....mmmm."  My resolve to stop him shattered as his mouth moved lower and his tongue slid against my skin.

"What?" he asked, looking up at me.

"Nothing," I replied, pushing my fingers into his hair.  "Never mind."

He shrugged and continued and I quickly forgot my "rule".  It was worth it, too.  Two orgasms worth it.  Everything else was just as good, and he even had his own condoms.  I like a man that comes prepared and doesn't try to get out of using a condom.  I might be easy, but I'm not an idiot.

Afterwards, we both laid sprawled across my couch.  He was smart enough to not try to cuddle with me, and thank god for that.  He did rake his fingers lightly up and down the inside of my forearm, which was perfectly acceptable and actually quite pleasant.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he said, increasing the pressure of his fingers on my arm slightly.

I pulled my arm away and sat up, looking for my clothes.  "Don't fucking make it weird," I complained.

He chuckled as he sat up and pulled his clothes on.  "I'll take that as my cue to leave, then."

"Solid choice," I replied.

I trailed him towards the door.  I hadn't been able to find my bra for some reason, it must have gotten kicked under the couch, so I just slid my tank top back on.  I'd find it later.  "So, was this a one-time deal, or could we make it a regular occurrence?" he asked, sliding his feet into his shoes.  He looked up at me, and he had a cocky grin on his face and one eyebrow cocked in question.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves with this 'regular occurrence' bullshit, but I'd be open to doing it again," I said.  "I think you earned that with today's performance."

"Just to be sure," he said, reaching for me.  He grabbed my waist (and his hand was big enough that his fingertips touched my spine) and pulled me to him, then pressed his lips to mine.  I was caught off-guard enough that I kissed him back, and I moaned softly when he sucked on my bottom lip, then nipped it lightly.  The hand that didn't have me by the waist slid across the front of my tight tank top and gently tugged on my nipple through my shirt.  I was about ready to take all my clothes off again when he pulled away.  "See you next time," he said, smirking at me.  And then he was out the door, before I could even process it.

"Fucker," I muttered, locking the door behind him.  After he drove away, I busied myself organizing my closet.  Staying busy distracted me from thinking about the fact that even though the sex was good (very good), after 10 months of having sex with someone that I had actual feelings for, it still felt like something was missing.  But, I'd do it again, because the sex was good.


Monday was a rough day.  I had, for a change, very little to do at work.  When I had nothing to do, my thoughts wandered to Damien.  Thinking about Damien was hard and painful, so in an effort to occupy myself, I downloaded Tinder.  Why not?  I scrolled through, swiping left on most, right on a couple.  It was only a matter of about an hour until I was chatting with a few guys, and two hours until I had a date set up for Tuesday and another one for Thursday.  This was easy.  Way easier than picking guys up in bars.  So far, at least.

I had been wary of going to dinner with Liv and Lauren, because I knew Lauren didn't exactly approve of my recent actions.  But I decided I wasn't going to let her bad attitude keep me from doing something I otherwise would have done, and I went.  I guess I should have just went home, because we hadn't even finished our meal before shit blew up and I stormed out.  I felt bad leaving because Liv had been trying to keep the peace, but Lauren just bulldozed right over her in her usual fashion.  What a fucking hypocrite.  I had no doubt that she'd do the same damn thing if she and Alex were to break up.  And I really did believe she was worried, but her worry came out sideways as 'judgmental bitch' and I wasn't in a place to hear it.

I knew we'd make up.  I knew Liv would talk some sense into her and she'd come around.  She probably wouldn't apologize, but we'd just pretend nothing had happened.   That's how Lauren rolled.  It might take a couple weeks, but that was fine.  Judging by how many times my phone had vibrated in the past 15 minutes, I'd have plenty to keep me occupied for the next couple weeks.