The sunlight bouncing off the snow the next morning was too damn bright. It felt like a spotlight on every bad decision I'd made in the last twenty-four hours. As if shoving the sex with Silas in my face.
I woke up in the guest room, I'd crawled back there at some point in the middle of the night, and my body felt like it belonged to someone else.
I was sore in places I hadn't thought about in freaking years, and the scent of Silas was all over the sheets. It made me want to puke. Not because it was bad, but because it was real.
I sat up, clutching the duvet to my chest. Great job, Alina. Way to stick it to the man by letting him stick it in you on his kitchen counter. Real empowered.
The shame was a hot, greasy weight in my gut. I felt like a cliché. The broke girl who fell for the rich older guy the second things got hard. I felt dirty, and not the fun kind. I felt like I'd just handed him the final piece of my dignity on a silver platter.
I scrambled out of bed, grabbing my clothes from the floor. My skirt was wrinkled, and the white blouse had a missing button from where his massive hands had been too impatient.
"Stupid," I hissed at my reflection. "You're so fucking stupid. Really? Two seconds after meeting a man? Slut."
I heard the heavy thud of his boots in the hallway. I froze, my heart hammering. I wasn't ready to be "Alina" to his "Silas."
I wasn't ready for the gentle breakfast and the "what are we" talk.
A knock at the door. "Alina? You awake? I'm making coffee."
"Go away, Silas!" I yelled, my voice cracking.
The door opened anyway. Just a crack. He looked refreshed, of course he did. He looked like a man who had slept like a king. He was wearing a clean henley that showed off his shoulders, and he had that calm, soft look in his eyes that made me want to scream.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice dropping to that low, intimate rumble.
"I'm fan-fucking-tastic," I grumbled, jamming my foot into my boot. "I need a ride. Or a taxi. Are the roads clear?"
Silas stepped into the room, his brow furrowing. "The plows came through an hour ago. But you don't need a taxi. I'll take you wherever you want to go after we eat."
"I don't want to eat your food, Silas. I want to get out of this house." I finally looked at him, my eyes sharp and defensive. "Last night was a mistake. A big, messy, mid-life-crisis-fueled mistake. You got what you wanted, right? You got the 'broken girl' to open up? Cool. Mission accomplished. Now let me go."
Silas's face went stone-cold. The warmth in his eyes died out, replaced by a rigid, hurt dignity. "Is that really what you think that was? A mission?"
"I think you're forty and I'm twenty-one, and I'm pretty sure there's a word for guys who take advantage of girls who just watched their moms die and crashed their cars in a ditch." I knew I was being cruel. I knew I was lying. But I needed him to hate me so I wouldn't have to deal with the fact that I might actually like him.
"You're a real piece of work, Alina," Silas said, his voice quiet. Infuriatingly so.
"Yeah, well, you're a creep who likes his coffee with a side of trauma," I spat. "I already called the cab. It's coming from town. Just stay the hell away from me."
Why the hell do I keep calling him a creep!?
I pushed past him, my shoulder hitting his chest. He didn't move an inch, but he didn't stop me. I ran down the stairs, grabbing my jacket from the mudroom. I didn't look back. I couldn't.
The taxi, a rusted-out Crown Vic that looked like it was held together by duct tape, was waiting at the end of the long driveway. I ran through the slush, my breath coming in short, jagged gasps.
"You okay, miss?" the driver asked, looking at my messy hair and wrinkled clothes in the rearview mirror.
"Just drive," I snapped, slouching down in the seat. "Get me away from this goddamn place."
As we pulled away, I looked back once. Silas was standing on the porch, a dark silhouette against the white snow. He didn't wave. He just stood there, looking like the mountain he was, unshakable, lonely, and completely out of my reach.
I turned forward, my vision blurring with tears I refused to let fall. I reached into my pocket and felt the hundred-dollar bill he'd given me at the gala. I crumpled it into a ball and shoved it deep into the seat cushions of the cab.
"Perv," I whispered, but this time, the word felt like ash in my mouth.
I was back in my world now. The world of cheap rent, cold eggs, and a hole in my heart that was bigger than it had been yesterday. And the worst part? I knew Silas wasn't a predator.
I was the one who had hunted him down, and then ran away because I was too scared of the catch.