With You

13. Regret

I slept on the couch.

Out of all the questions that had popped up throughout the day, sleeping on the couch was the easiest decision I had to make.

I mean, how was I supposed to share a mattress after Rowan – after he – I couldn't. I was spiralling. Everything was spiralling. If I'd thought that college had thrown me off-guard, Rowan was an entire new galaxy of confusion. Problems. Questions.

I couldn't face him. I couldn't face it.

So, I slept on the couch.

And even then, slept was the wrong word. How could I sleep after all that? Every time I even closed my eyes – no, sleep would not come. Attempted to sleep was more accurate.

I couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. About Rowan. I couldn't stop replaying the entire night in my head. I analysed every word, every movement. I thought about the way his leg would brush mine when we sat beside each other, the looks we shared. I thought about leading him up to my room, how he leaned against my dresser, looking down at me. I thought about what he'd said to me – why he'd attended my lectures, why he was always there, reading, watching, teasing.

I thought about the way he grabbed my face and kissed me.

And then, when I'd memorised the exact spots his fingers had grazed, the way his mouth had moved against mine, I started to replay our entire semester – every moment I'd spent with him, spoken to him, seen him.

None of it made sense.

He'd hated me. Sure, he was at my economics lecture, but he'd insulted me there. And yeah, he was at all my soccer practices, but I'd thought he'd just liked reading outdoors. Although, it had been strange that he'd wanted to read at a spot where being hit by a stray soccer ball was a highly likely risk. it wasn't like we spoke, at least, not for a long time. And then when we did speak, it was all insults.

Suddenly, the words he'd said to me flashed in my mind again – dumb athlete – and I was stirring all over again.

I groaned, flipping on my side, and dragging my fingers over my face. I felt like shit. I couldn't stop thinking, and thinking, and thinking.

It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

I liked girls. I had liked Aspen just months ago. I'd had girlfriends. That was real, right? It felt real at the time. And yet, I couldn't stop thinking about Rowan.

I couldn't stop thinking about his lips pressing against mine and feeling my stomach stir at the memory of his thumb brushing against my throat. I couldn't help but wonder –

Before my mind could wander any further, I slapped my hands against my face.

What was happening to me?

Shifting onto my back, I dug my phone out of my pocket, only groaning again when I realised the sun wouldn't rise for another three hours. I was exhausted and wide awake all at once and I knew I wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon.

So, I opened Google and I began to search.

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"Sebastian."

"Seb."

"Wake up."

I woke with a start, shooting onto my elbows to find my mother staring at me with a frown on her face. The room was bright – too bright.

"What time is it?" I groaned. When had I even fallen asleep? I spun, searching for my phone, only to find it had rolled across the carpet sometime in the night.