The morning light is just starting to filter in through the blinds when I open my eyes. For a second, I feel at peace, wrapped up in warm blankets, my limbs tangled with Derek's, everything just right, filling me with a sense of being exactly where I am supposed to be. I turn in Derek's embrace and take in his face, relaxed in sleep.
Strands of blond hair fall into his forehead. There's a dusting of stubble on his chin that shimmers golden in the light. I want to touch him, cup his cheek, run my hand through his hair.
But then, reality begins to gnaw at me, and I remember all the weird red flags I chose to ignore the night before.
My cheek rests on the pillow, Derek's arm is still draped heavily over my waist, his breath slow and steady beside me. I feel his warmth, his presence, and a swirl of emotions forms inside me like a dust devil that could grow into a hurricane at any second. Last night… all that urgency, his hands holding onto me, his voice rough with need, the way he clung to me with that strange desperation—it feels like a fever dream. Except that I'm still slightly sore in that good, post-coital way. I'm not sure if I regret it yet, or if I just don't know what to make of it.
Plus, we never talked about Emily.
Before I can even start to untangle my thoughts and all those confusing feelings, the shrill buzz of the doorbell pierces the quiet. Derek stirs beside me, muttering something under his breath, but he doesn't wake. I shift his arm off me as gently as I can and slide out of bed, grabbing a sports bra, a t-shirt and bike shorts. I'm still befuddled, wondering if I scheduled something for this morning and forgot. I throw on the clothes in record time and comb my fingers through my hair.
I then tiptoe down the hallway, glancing back at the bedroom door which I've left slightly ajar. Maybe I should have closed it. With every step, the pit in my stomach grows deeper. Who would be here this early?
I reach the door and open it a crack, hoping it's just a neighbor or a package delivery. But instead, standing on my doorstep in a pair of faded jeans, a biker jacket, her short black hair tousled from travel, is *Kaylee*.
Her eyes widen when she sees me, and the corners of her mouth lift into a relieved smile.
"Surprise!" she says, in that typical always a little sarcastic Kaylee sing-song voice, but I catch the worry hidden in her tone. "You didn't think I'd let you go through all this crap alone, did you?"
I force a smile, trying to steady my thoughts. *Crap*. She has no idea just how messy things have gotten. "Kaylee," I say, voice barely above a whisper because I really don't want Derek to wake up and walk in on this. "What are you doing here?"
I should be sounding happy and I try to, but I know I don't. I know I sound caught.
"I hopped on the earliest flight I could get. After everything that happened with Derek…" Her eyes narrow slightly, reading my face. "You didn't get my messages, did you?"
I shake my head. "My phone's been… um, off," I say, hoping she doesn't catch the slight quiver in my voice. Or the flush crawling up my neck.
She raises an eyebrow and peers over my shoulder into the apartment. "Is everything okay?" Then her gaze flickers downward, and I realize she's noticed my outfit, my slightly disheveled hair. I get the sense that she can smell the guilt and sex on me. She stares at me for a moment, and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. Her expression shifts into a quizzical frown.
I can see the gears ticking away inside her brain. She's putting things together, me not getting her messages, not reacting all night, now this flushed disheveled look and my shifty demeanor. It's obvious that she doesn't like the image revealing itself to her.
"Oh my god," she whispers, her voice just loud enough for me to hear. "Tell me you didn't."
I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. Her expression turns from shock to open disapproval. "Skye. You *did not* let him back into your bed, did you?"
I flinch, hugging myself. Shit. She's seen right through me and I'm embarrassed by my own spineless behavior. "Kaylee, it's not—it's not what you think." My voice sounds thin. As far as excuses go, I only have the flimsiest one to offer. "He came over last night, and… we just talked. It was complicated."
She folds her arms, giving me that look—half annoyed, half genuinely worried. She definitely knows that Derek and I didn't just talk. "Complicated, huh? It didn't sound so complicated when you were crying your eyes out. What happened to legally changing his name to Dreck? To having a big old roast?"
Her words hit harder than I expect, and the guilt sinks its claws deeper into my chest. Kaylee's always had this ability to lay everything uncomfortable right out, and I know I can't hide from her for long. But the memory of last night lingers, and a twisted part of me is angry at myself for being embarrassed about this. If I want to be with Derek, that's my choice. We've been a couple for five years, that's not something I can just throw away. It's easy to judge when you're on the outside.
I manage a weak smile, looking down at my feet. "Kaylee… he was different last night. I don't know how to explain it. He just showed up and… he begged for forgiveness and I guess I gave in."
She sighs, looking both exasperated and concerned, and steps into the apartment. "So he begged. Okay, that's a start, I guess. But he hurt you bad. Did he explain this weird thing with his co-worker, what's her name the clown?"
A wave of dread washes over me because the answer is so fucking pathetic. "I didn't ask," I mutter.
I hate the way her eyes darken. She looks at me like I'm some poor little orphan in a charity ad. "Skye, come on, tell me you're not serious. You can't just accept that. Are you going to pretend it never happened?"
A soft sound from the bedroom makes my heart jump. Derek is stirring, shifting under the blankets, and the threat of him walking in is getting more and more real. He might already be listening. This is really not the time or place to have this conversation.
Kaylee looks over, raising an eyebrow. She has that pugnacious glint in her eyes, the one I've known and feared since our earliest playground fights. "Want me to ask him for you?"
I feel my cheeks flush crimson. I try to force a laugh, to brush it off, but it comes out too high, too strained. My chest feels tight. I hate how easily she's made me feel ashamed. Kaylee would totally march into my bedroom, shake Derek awake and interrogate him for me - waterboarding included -, but that's the last thing I want to happen.
"Uh, let's… maybe not wake him." If I hadn't already known I sound pathetic, Kaylee's face would have clued me in.
She watches me for a moment, then sighs, her expression softening. "Look, I'm here to support you, whatever you decide. I may not get it—*at all*—but I'm not leaving until you want me to. Just… don't shut me out, okay?"
I nod, feeling a swell of gratitude, even through the awkwardness. She does have a point. I've let Derek get away with something. Something big maybe. But that's my decision to make. For now I don't want to fight, I'm just grateful she's here and I know I've done a shit job of showing it.
"Can we talk later at Teddy's? After I get off work?" I ask, suggesting the best pizza place in our neighborhood in the hopes that treating my friend to her favorite food will appease her. It won't be that easy with her, but it's a start and I need to try.
"Sure," Kaylee replies. She pulls me in for a hug then and despite everything, I melt a little in her embrace. It's been months since we've been able to meet in person like this, what with her moving to L.A. for her career and only making the trip back for major holidays now. She gives me a tight squeeze and I smell her musky boy-deodorant and feel the firmness of her body. California has made her tougher, I catch myself thinking and I envy her a little for that.
"Thanks for coming, Kay," I whisper.
"Always," she whispers back.