Deep Surrendering (Episode Two)

Deep Surrenderings, Episode 2

Copyright © 2014 Chelsea M. Cameron
www.chelseamcameron.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. All rights reserved.

Cover Copyright © Chelsea M. Cameron

Edited by Jen Hendricks

Copy Editing by Kara Malinczak

Cover Design by 
OkayCreations.com

Interior Design by Novel Ninjutsu

There I was—naked, turned on, and alone. For the second time, Fintan Herald had rushed out of my apartment, telling me that he couldn’t go further with me.

Only this time, I cried.

I couldn’t help it. Fin told me he wasn’t going to bail on me again, and then what did he do? Bailed. Mid-fucking-coitus. I should have just let Chloe stay and gotten middle-of-the-week drunk on wine and passed out on my couch.

With shaky legs, I got up and got dressed. I couldn’t stop myself from shivering even after I had my clothes on. I was cold and alone and rejected. Twice.

Tears fell from my face as I paced around my apartment, trying to decide what to do. Why the fuck was I so cold? I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to rub some warmth into my body. It was summer and usually I’d be sweltering in my apartment due to the poor ventilation, but it didn’t matter.

I went to the bathroom and turned on the water as hot as it would go and plugged the tub. I went to the kitchen and found a bottle of wine in the back of my fridge and popped it open, pouring it into a large juice glass. I had another packed day tomorrow, but sometimes you needed a mental health day. This was definitely one of those times.

I sipped from my glass and stripped again, wincing as I got in the tub. The water was hot enough to nearly scald my skin, but I liked it that way. I got in, sat back, and closed my eyes.

The look on Fin’s face when he’d pulled away from me flooded my headspace, leaving room for nothing else.

I’d been so ready to give myself over to him, to let him do what he wanted with me. I’d never given myself up like that before. I’d wanted to, with him. I’d given him my trust and he’d broken it.

No more. I was done.

Not that he would try to contact me. That was highly unlikely. I wished, more than anything, that the hot water could wash Fin Herald from my body, from my mind, and from my life.

I grabbed my loofah and some body wash and started scrubbing my skin.

Lots of wine later and when the water was finally too cool to stand, I got out of the tub. My skin was raw from scrubbing. Once I started I couldn’t stop, and then I was doing my whole body.

Shivering in a towel, I let the water drain from the tub.

I wasn’t going to lose my shit over a guy. No. Especially not over one I’d known for less than a week. I was going to brush this one off my shoulder and go back to the girl I’d been before I met Fin.

I could be her. I
would
be her.

But first, I needed some more wine.

I staggered to the kitchen a little while later, which was a big mistake. The bottle with the lilacs and the rubber duck were still on my counter. I imagined myself swiping my arm out and knocking both of them onto the floor, but that would just leave me with a shattered bottle and a lot of water to clean up.

Instead, I threw the lilacs in the trash, put the bottle in the sink, and shoved the duck in a drawer.

“Fuck you, Fin,” I said under my breath. I needed to go to bed. The wine was starting to make me sleepy and my body was so heavy that I nearly crawled to bed, but not before I grabbed a glass of water and put it on my nightstand. I knew I would need it in the morning.

“Fuck you, Fin,” I said once more before I succumbed to the effects of the wine and passed out.

The first sound I heard the next morning was my alarm. The second was me groaning. My head pounded in response to the wailing coming from my cell phone.

“Fuuuuucccckkkkk,” I groaned again, gripping my head as if that would somehow stop the pain ricocheting through my brain. Logic told me that I needed to get up and get my ass in the shower, but that definitely wasn’t happening. I doubted I was even going to be getting out of bed anytime soon.

My attendance record in my classes was impeccable, and thanks to a little well-placed ass kissing, I had every confidence that I could fake a 24-hour stomach bug. That would clear me from all of my obligations for the day.

Before I could type out a few emails on my phone, I had to crawl to the bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach. I felt much better when I was done, so I made my way to the kitchen to see if I could find something to fill my now-empty stomach.

I stared at the couch and memories from last night assaulted me. Too bad I couldn’t have thrown those up too. Ew. That was not a fun image.

After frying up an egg and toasting a croissant, I made myself a sandwich with lots of cheese. Avoiding the couch, I took it back to bed with me, chasing it with two aspirin and some careful sips of water.

I closed my eyes and lay back, waiting for the medicine to kick in. If I stayed perfectly still, the pain almost stopped. And then my phone rang.

“Son of a—“ It was Chloe. Odd.

“Hello?” I said, trying to keep the moan out of my voice. I was less than successful.

“Hey,” Chloe said, sounding equally as awful as I felt. “I got drunk last night. Had that whole cheap bottle of wine and it’s all your fault. You’re probably still in bed with the dark-haired sex god.”
Oh no, I wasn’t
.

“I am not.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I’m also not going to class today, and I’m guessing you called out of work?”

“You would be correct,” she said.

“Think you can manage to get your ass over here?”

“I think so. Give me at least a half an hour.”

“Sure.”

I hung up and closed my eyes again.

Chloe arrived at my apartment with her makeup smeared everywhere, her hair sticking up, and in a pair of pajamas that had definitely seen better days.

“You know you’re not wearing any shoes,” I pointed out. She looked down.

“Huh. I guess not.” She shrugged and staggered inside, going right for the couch and collapsing on it, facedown. I was not going to point out that I had been recently naked on said couch. Not that she probably would have cared. We had a close friendship.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“No, definitely not. I’m not at that stage of my recovery yet. I’m still hanging. Or hung. Whatever.” She moaned into the pillow and I went and sat on the chair next to the couch. It was going to take a little while to wipe my brain of the memory of the activities that had taken place on that couch.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I sure as hell didn’t want to talk about my own reasons for currently being hung over.