He looks poster boy sexy, ruffled, but totally stressed; his arms are up and resting on top of his head in a pose that just screams “My life is f*****g over”. I falter, but he says nothing, just sighs; still watching me and I force myself to walk into the room. I look around for his guest and note his door is shut.
“She’s in there … It was Marissa.” He points out darkly. I say nothing, just chew my lip nervously. My heart’s pounding so hard I think I may have a heart attack and I want him to stop staring at me. He’s making me even more nervous than I already am, dissolving my resolve.
“Are you done having your after-s*x crisis?” his tone droll, I flinch at his words but ignore them and take a slow breath.
“I’m going running … I need some air.” I respond quietly. Unable to meet his eyes.
