Not the First

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Don't think about June

Don't think about June

Don't think about June

She was gone when I woke up. I'd like to pretend I didn't care when I woke up to the empty sofa sleeper with her blanket folded and stacked on top of her pillow. I checked for a message, assuming something came up. Maybe she had to rush to soccer practice she'd forgotten about. My phone screen was clear though. No messages from June. No note either. Not even a goodbye.

I pump the vibrator inside of me and clamp a hand over my mouth, trying to quiet my moans. I don't need Billy next door hearing me fuck myself after June snuck out in the early hours of the morning. This has nothing to do with her. I don't care if she didn't want to hook up. I don't care that she left.

I moan louder this time as pleasure creeps into my abdomen and down my thighs.

"Fuck."

I slip my free hand under the blanket and slide my finger against my clit. I'd wanted to drag this out, but everything feels too good. The vibrator hits all the right spots. My fingers feel good against my own skin. I don't need June to make me feel good. I push the vibrator deeper and press the back of my hand over my mouth.

June's face flashes through my mind while I bite back a moan; while I come.

My muscles clench and unclench but the orgasm isn't nearly as good as the buildup. Still, it leaves me panting. While I wait to catch my breath, my hand finds my phone under the covers on its own and taps the screen on. I can pretend I'm checking the time but a flicker of hope in my chest wanted to see a message from June apologizing for sneaking off without saying goodbye. Still nothing.

That's it I tell myself. I'm not thinking about her anymore.

But that's exactly what I do as I climb out of bed and crank the shower on in the bathroom. The steam fills the tiny room fast and fogs up the mirror. It's too much, pushing in on my lungs and making it hard to take a full breath but it's better than the tightness in my chest from thinking about June.

I know why she left. It's obvious. We talked about hooking up last night before we went to bed. She set a hard boundary and I respected it but she was obviously still uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough to leave without saying anything.

Frustration pushes hot tears into my eyes as I climb into the shower. The first friend I've made in years and I ruined it with sex. I crank the shower hotter and let the water burn away the emotion clinging to my insides. Once I'm done, I can breathe again. June doesn't matter to me, or at least I can pretend like she doesn't. Sometimes all it takes is a hot shower to wash away the dark and twisty feelings.

I'm wiping the mirror down when a scratchy noise comes from the hotel room, like something rubbing against the door. I pop my head out from the bathroom, holding my breath as I do, but my room is empty and everything is untouched as far as I can tell. I hear the same scratching noise but this time I can tell it's coming from the main door.

Images from last night play in my head. Ones I thought I'd mostly forgotten. Ricky grabbing my arm at the bar so hard it left bruises. The spray paint in my room. Slut. What would Ricky have done if I'd been in my room when he showed up? Goosebumps run down my arms.

I grab my keyring and clutch it to my chest, popping the safety lock off my pepper spray with shaky hands. Beads of water drip down my chest. I tighten the towel around me and hold the pepper spray ready.

The main door clicks before I can think of a plan. I launch out from the bathroom and slam my thumb down against the little red trigger on my pepper spray, aiming it at the face of the intruder, not taking a second to react. Every second counts right now. I'm screaming as I spray the stream of pepper spray at the person, hoping Billy will hear the commotion and come to my rescue before anything escalates.

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