It Ends with Us

I wonder if there’s a way he could leave them on during the sex?
• • •
I’ve never taken more than half an hour to get ready, but it’s almost an
hour before I’m finished in the bathroom. I shaved more parts of me than
was probably necessary, and then spent a good twenty minutes having a
freak-out, and had to talk myself out of opening the door and telling him
to leave. But now that my hair is dry and I’m cleaner than I’ve ever been, I
think I might be able to do this. I can totally have a one-night stand. I’m
twenty-three years old.
I open the door and he’s still there on my bed. I’m a little disappointed
to see that his scrub top is on the floor, but I don’t see his pants, so he
must still be wearing them. He’s under the covers, though, so I can’t tell.
I close the door behind me and wait for him to roll over and look at
me, but he doesn’t. I take a few steps closer, and that’s when I notice he’s
snoring.
Not just a light—oh I just fell asleep—snore. It’s a middle of REM sleep
kind of snore.
“Ryle?” I whisper. He doesn’t even budge when I shake him.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I drop down onto the bed, not even caring if I wake him. I just spent an
entire hour getting ready for him after busting my ass today, and this is
how he treats this night?
I can’t be mad at him, though, especially seeing how peaceful he looks.
I can’t imagine working a forty-eight-hour shift. Plus, my bed is really
comfortable. It’s so comfortable, it could make a person fall right back to
sleep after a full night of rest. I should have warned him about that.
I check the time on my phone and it’s almost 10:30 p.m. I put the
phone on silent and then lie down next to him. His phone is on the pillow
next to his head, so I grab it and swipe up the camera option. I hold his
phone above us and make sure my cleavage looks good and pushed
together. I snap a picture so he’ll at least see what he missed out on.

---

I turn off the light and laugh to myself, because I’m falling asleep next
to a half-naked man that I’ve never even kissed.
• • •
I can feel his fingers trailing up my arm before I even open my eyes. I
force back a tired smile and pretend I’m still sleeping. His fingers trail
over my shoulder and stop at my collarbone, just before they reach my
neck. I have a small tattoo there that I got in college. It’s a simple outline
of a heart that’s slightly open at the top. I can feel his fingers circle around
the tattoo, and then he leans forward and presses his lips against it. I
squeeze my eyes shut even tighter.
“Lily,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around my waist. I moan a little,
trying to wake up, and then roll onto my back so that I can look up at him.
When I open my eyes, he’s staring down at me. I can tell by the way the
sunlight shines through my windows and across his face that it’s not even
seven a.m. yet.
“I am the most despicable man you’ve ever met. Am I right?”
I laugh, and nod a little. “Pretty damn close.”
He smiles and then brushes my hair off my face. He leans forward and
presses his lips to my forehead, and I hate that he just did that. Now I’ll be
the one plagued with sleepless nights, because I want to put this memory
on repeat.
“I have to go,” he says. “I’m really late. But one—I’m sorry. Two—I’ll
never do this again. This is the last you’ll hear from me, I promise. And
three—I’m really sorry. You have no idea.”
I force a smile, but I want to frown because I absolutely hated his
number two. I actually don’t mind if he tries this again, but then I remind
myself that we want two different things from life. And it’s good that he
fell asleep and we never even kissed, because if I would have had sex with
him while he was wearing scrubs, I would have been the one showing up at
his door on my knees, begging for more.
This is good. Rip the Band-Aid off and let him leave.
“Have a nice life, Ryle. I wish you all the success in the world.”
He doesn’t respond to my goodbye. He silently stares down at me with
somewhat of a frown, and then says, “Yeah. You too, Lily.”

---

Then he rolls away from me and stands up. I can’t even look at him
right now, so I roll onto my side so that my back is to him. I listen as he
puts his shoes on and then reaches for his phone. There’s a long pause
before he moves again, and I know it’s because he was staring at me. I
squeeze my eyes shut until I hear the slam of the front door.
My face immediately grows warm, and I refuse to allow myself to mope.
I force myself off the bed. I have work to do. I can’t be upset that I’m not
enough to make a guy want to remap all of his life goals.
Besides, I have my own life goals to worry about now. And I’m really
excited about them. So much so, that I really don’t have time for a guy in
my life, anyway.
No time.
Nope.
Busy girl, here.
I am a brave and bold businesswoman with zero fucks to give for men in
scrubs.

---