It’s funny how things always look so different in the morning. 

For one thing, the fall is coming.  When I pull myself out of bed and ease the curtains open, the street is decorated with scattered auburn leaves.  This summer hasn’t brought me much happiness, and I smile as another handful of leaves dance their way down from the trees lining the sidewalk, resting on the dirty asphalt.

I take a look around my still so new surroundings, mildly embarrassed that I brought Justin back here last night instead of going back to his nice, clean, sanitary apartment, which in no way violates any New York City health codes.  It was the thought of returning to that apartment: to our bed, our sheets, our bathroom with matching toothbrushes.  The experience would have been too painful. 

But still, as clean morning light pours through the passionately scrubbed window (there had been a small army of dead insects resting on the sill that had to be evicted), I can’t help but see my tiny, low-rent apartment through Justin’s eyes.  I’ve never been made to feel as though I have something to prove to him, but who wants their ex to know that the minute they leave them their living standards drop from the Plaza to hobo chic?  I must remember to hide that mouse trap in the bathroom, even if there is some comic value that my current residence is more suitable to vermin that human inhabitation.

Oh good, a drunk is pissing in the street below us.  Perhaps I’ll close the curtains after all.

Behind me, I hear a shifting motion as Justin sits up, rubs his eyes blearily, and looks around.

“Morning,” I offer meekly, suddenly very aware that I slept with him last night and I’d gladly do it again if he so much as suggested it.

No.  Sex confuses everything.  Once was fine, excusable even...the man is gorgeous after all...but a morning roll around would just be ridiculous.

Even though I really, really want to.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and I almost laugh at how childish he looks in the morning.  Like a six year old woken for breakfast when all he wants to do is suck his thumb and return to dreamland.

But he doesn’t.  He coughs, runs his hands over his face once more and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“Can you see my pants?”

“Um,” I scan the room half-heartedly, my hands closed over a cup of coffee.  “They’ll be in here somewhere.”

He bends forward and picks up his shirt, easing it over his shoulders as the muscles in his back dance and flex invitingly.  I want to run my fingers over them.

“Are you leaving?” I ask, a note of surprise in my voice.

“Are you going to stop me?” he tosses over his shoulder, pausing to cock his head in my direction by the window. 

His eyes meet mine defiantly in a look that I am unprepared for.  I almost snap, “Why the attitude?”, but know Justin will still be feeling sore after last night.  It’s funny, for someone who claims to be so confident and at ease with himself, he really doesn’t like someone saying no to him.

I shift uneasily, wishing I had put on more than just some underwear and a tank top when I woke up.  “Well, I thought...I thought we were going to talk.”

Justin sighs, his head dropping as he runs his hands over his bare legs.  “Sorry.  I don’t mean to be...sorry.  I’m just a little confused, is all.” 

“I am too,” I reply, staring into the deep black of my coffee sitting in the white cup.  “But let’s not argue today, huh?  We’re both confused, and getting all het up won’t help anything.”

He nods.  “I know.”

The hazy, twisted memory of last night’s confrontation emerges from my mind.  Justin’s voice suggesting we leap back into our relationship and this horrible, evil demon in the back of my head telling me to jump back in would be a huge mistake.  Even though getting back together with Justin was all I wanted to do, there’s something stopping me.  Maybe it’s the knowledge of what it is to break up with him: like being torn in two, and I couldn’t do it again.  It hurt too much, too recently.

I attempt to articulate the thickness of my jumbled thoughts.  “I just feel so –”

“Perplexed?” he offers, again turning his head to meet my gaze over his shoulder.  But this time, his eyes are kind, not confrontational.

“Yeah,” I smile, a sense of ease coming over me.  “That’s a big word for a guy who doesn’t have his pants on yet.”

He laughs slightly, shrugging boyishly.  “Trace and I have started to do the crossword together in the paper.  Figured that now we’re closer to thirty than twenty we’d better stop being such a pair of dumb asses.”

“You do the crossword together?” I raise an eyebrow.  “How sweet, and yet homoerotic.”

His smile meets his eyes as he stands up, pulling his boxers quickly over his legs.  I have the courtesy to look down into my coffee, although the temptation to ask whether he’s woken up excited is strong.

Oh Cat, for goodness sake.  Stop being so immature.  You’re one step away from calling it a “boner.”

“I bet you ten dollars Trace knew this was gonna happen,” Justin smirks, resting his hands on his hips as he surveys last night’s damage.  Clothes are strewn across the floor like forgotten garbage.  “The kid’s smarter than we give him credit for.”

I look up from my cup only to roll my eyes.  “Anyone who attends a Halloween costume party dressed up as a pedophile deserves to be credited with no intelligence whatsoever.”

“Oh yeah,” Justin exclaims, shaking his head with a boyish smile.  “Jeez, was that a year ago already?”

“Coffee?” I suggest brightly, ignoring the question before I dwell on happier times.  “I just put on some organic, freshly ground, genuinely Cuban crap that I bought from Starbucks for too much money.”

He frowns.  “But you never drink coffee in the morning.”

“I do now,” I shrug, making my way towards the door to take the five steps through the hallway to the kitchen.  I don’t mention to him that the only reason I drink coffee now is to replace the several hundred calorie hot chocolate I used to love so much.

“You’re so...grown up, Cat,” Justin muses as he takes a sit in one of the mismatched kitchen chairs.  “So independent.  All of this,” he gestures to the embarrassingly humble surroundings, “I’m so glad that you’ve managed to pull it all off.”

“Thanks,” I slide a cup of coffee across the table, remembering briefly Justin’s phase of calling it ‘Jack’ rather than ‘Joe.’  Smartass.  “It’s not much, but...it’s the best I can do.”

“No,” he shrugs away my embarrassment.  “It’s great.  Okay, the place could do with being in a safer neighborhood, but it’s really great the way you’ve...pulled yourself together.”

I remain silent, sliding into the chair opposite him and circling the rim of my cup with my fingers.  In the time that we spent apart, I must have played over what I wanted to say to Justin a million times in my head.  Sometimes I told him how angry I was at him, at me, at how we let things get so bad.  Sometimes I told him I love him and we reunited with a passionate kiss.  Sometimes we ended up back together, sometimes we didn’t.

But now that he’s here, sitting across from me on the wooden, scrubbed pale brown table, and we’ve slept together, and I know he wants to give things another shot, and something still feels so off between us...well, my little pre-prepared speeches seem pretty stupid now.

“So who’s this guy?”

“What guy?” my brows furrow in confusion, hiding the relief that Justin started what feels like the millionth conversation about our relationship.

“The guy, I don’t know his name...” Justin trails off, scratching at the surface of the table.  “The guy you were, you know.”

I sigh.  Freddie – I should have known he would come up eventually.  “It was a one night deal.  He’s a friend of a friend.”

“Name?”

“Freddie.”

“Freddie, Freddie...” he turns the name over in his mind, as though memorizing it.  “Stupid name.  Nothing good comes from being called Freddie.”

I laugh in spite of myself.  “What about Buffy’s husband?  That actor?”

“Freddie Prinze Junior?” Justin raises his eyes to meet mine in contempt.  “You obviously never saw any of his movies.”

“I did not,” I admit with a smile.  “I must have been too busy getting an education.”

Justin laughs slightly under his breath, before his gaze turns uncomfortable again, returning to look at the wooden surface.   “So you two just...”

“Yeah,” I shrug, a blush flooding my cheeks.  Thank God he’s not looking at me anymore.  “We were both drunk, but I knew what I was doing.  I guess I...I don’t know, wanted a release, or to prove I could, or something.  It just happened.”

Justin nods in understanding, his eyes glued to the table top.  “I can’t pretend it doesn’t bother me a bit.”

“In what way?”

“In the jealous way,” he admits somewhat sheepishly, his eyes flitting to mine quickly.  “It’s not just that I haven’t slept with anyone else, but the thought of you with someone...” he sighs.  “I know it’s kinda weird and possessive, but you know me.”

I do know Justin, and I know that even at the height of our relationship he was always jealous.  In the most minor of ways: wanting to know how many people I’d slept with, getting all angry when another guy got too close to me.  Sure, most people dislike seeing someone hitting on your significant other, but Justin took it so much further than most people.  It was so stupid and irrational, especially when considering the perfectly formed God that was feeling all that jealousy. 

“Of course you’re going to feel a little jealous, Justin, but...”  I pause, unsure of how to phrase my words.  “But you have to grow out of that.  That whole insecure, overprotective thing you did when we were together...it was all so unnecessary.”

“So what are you saying, you felt smothered or something?”

I shrug.  “No, not really, I just can’t understand why you thought you had anything to be jealous of.  Take Sean – you hated that I still worked with him when we were dating.”

“That’s what any guy would feel!” he justifies weakly.  “It’s bad enough that you were friends with your ex, let alone being cubicle buddies to top it off.”

“That's understandable, but you would never let it go.  I mean, really Justin, be honest with yourself.  You knew you were never going to lose me to some other guy.”

“But I did lose you, Cat,” Justin emphasizes, frowning.  “Okay, I was a little possessive, but only because I knew how fucking gut-wrenching it would be if we broke up.”  He shakes his head.  “I didn’t even imagine it would be this bad.” 

“I couldn’t go through it again,” I agree, pulling the dark days immediately following our break up from my memory and wincing.  “It took effort to cry that much.”

“Didn’t seem to me like you were having too much trouble,” he shrugs.  “Moving out as quickly as you did and everything.”

“I couldn’t be around you, Justin,” I shake my head, my eyes resting on his shaved temple.  “I had to be by myself.”

“And what about now?”  The question comes out of nowhere and fast, stinging me.  “Can you stand to be around me now?”

“Justin,” I sigh.  “Don’t be like that.  I’m just being honest with you.”

He bows his head in apology.  He pauses, pushing the now cold, untouched coffee away from him,  and raises his eyes to meet my gaze straight on.  “Can I be honest with you now?”

“Sure.”

“I think you have an eating disorder.”

It takes a moment for the thought to sink in, and when it does I stifle a laugh.  “Justin, I’m a size eight.  You can’t have an eating disorder at this size.”

“What do you mean, ‘this size’?” he says impatiently, rolling his eyes in the way he always does when I criticize myself.  “You’re a totally average weight, you always were.”

“You said it,” I shrug off his comments with a flick of the hand.  “If I’m totally average, then I can’t have an eating disorder.”

“It’s not just a physical thing, Cat, it’s mental.  And even you can’t deny you are completely fucked up when it comes to your body.”

“Everyone has their insecurities,” I begin defensively, only to be interrupted.

“Cut the bullshit, Cat, you know what I mean.”

A silence hangs in the air between us.  Suddenly, I don’t feel like laughing anymore.

“Justin, I’m not starving myself, I’m not bulimic – I’m fine.”

“But are you happy?” he probes, staring at me intently.  “I know you were unhappy with your body before, Cat, but at least we could still chow down on fast food without too much fuss. But now you just seem so...bored.  And judging by your diet, I’m not surprised.”  His eyes leave mine and sweep the counters, resting on a two granola bars and an apple.

“Well, obviously it’s not the most exciting of things, eating healthily,” I shrug.  “You should know, you watch what you eat.”

“Hardly,” he rebukes with a shot of his eyes heavenwards.  “I try to keep the MacD’s to once a week, but that’s about it.  I still maintain a healthy relationship with food.”

Now it’s my turn to get angry.  “Keep the Dr Phil trash talk to yourself, Justin.  I do have a healthy relationship with food.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I know they’re a lie.  Food has always been the enemy, be it that I wanted it but couldn’t have it, or hated it but had to eat it.  I could tell Justin exactly what’s in my refrigerator at the moment, and furthermore tell him how many grams of fat is in each meal I’ve planned for the week.  This isn’t something that’s just started recently: I’ve always tortured myself with calorie contents and fat percentages, even if I ate the damn thing anyway.  I’d eat it and then force myself into a shame spiral at having a lack of self control.  I’ve never just enjoyed food for what it is.

Justin watches as recognition floods my features.  He doesn’t say anything, even though he’s just been proven right.

“Maybe you should get some help.”

“Oh God no,” I groan, putting my head in my hands.  “There’s nothing a shrink could tell me that I don’t know already.  Look,” I give myself a shake.  “I know that it could become a – a problem – but I’m keeping an eye on it.”

“Good,” he nods, apparently satisfied.  “I care about you so much, Cat.  For something so stupid to ruin your life...it would kill me.”

Something tugs at my stomach as I carefully reach across the table to place my hand on his.  “Thanks, Justin.  You mean a lot to me too.  You always will.”

The silence is thick and comfortable as the words reverberate between the two of us.  There’s a peace before I break it by clapping my hands together and standing up.

“This has all gotten too serious.”

Justin’s eyes widen at my sudden movement.  “I guess.”

“Why don’t we have some fun?  Get out of the apartment?”  I offer him a smile.  “Unless you want to stay inside on this beautiful fall day and talk about our feelings s’more.”

A chuckle escapes and he shrugs.  “I think my feelings have taken about as much as they can in the last twelve hours.”

“Then let’s do something; forget all about it.”

“Like what?” Justin asks, an amused half-smile creeping onto his face at the sudden key change in the mood.

“I don’t know...go for a walk, go to the movies, go to a museum.  Just do something.”

Justin’s smirk widens, his eyes dancing over my body.  His gaze rests somewhere between my panties and my thighs.  “Well, if you’re looking for something to do, we could do...it.”

My smile reaches my face before my blush does.  “That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“No?” he questions, slowly rising from his seat.  “Because I did notice you noticin’ me this morning.”

“I don’t think I was,” I deny hotly, cringing with embarrassment that Justin had caught wind of my juvenile thoughts about his...well, ‘boner.’ 

“Oh come on, Cat, we already did it last night.  What’s the harm in repeating it this morning?” he closes the gap between us with a crooked, devastatingly sexy grin on his face.  I almost melt when he places his hands on my hips to pull me towards him, but exert a degree of self-control.

“Justin, do you think this is wise?”

“Wise?  Wisdom is overrated.”  He bends to kiss my neck.  I can’t even stop him, because to swat Justin away from my body feels so unnatural – we had months and months of touching, kissing, flirting with each other, so there’s a relaxed comfort in being together physically that is yet to dissipate. 

“I’m serious.” I push him away unwillingly.  “We can’t just sleep together whenever the mood takes us.  That’s a dangerous game to play with an ex.”

“Then, why not un-ex each other,” he says solemnly, the lust leaving his eyes to be replaced with seriousness.  “Cat, it seems so stupid to dance around this thing.  We still care about each other and we want to have sex.  Aren’t those the two components to a great relationship?”

“For most, maybe,” I shrug, struggling to have a serious conversation with him in such proximity.  “But not for us, we’re too complicated for that.”

“Cat,” Justin sighs, cupping my face in his hands.  “You’ve got your problems, and I’ve got mine.  We’ve talked them over.”

“We’ve talked some of them over, and not in particular detail.”

He rolls his eyes.  “What else is there to say?  It’s always the same thing: we talk, we get angry, and then we wanna get into bed.”  He smiles hopefully.  “Hell, that’s our entire relationship summed up right there.”

I can’t help but return his grin.  “It’s not that simple.”

“I get it,” he returns to his serious expression.  “You need your own independence, I can’t be suffocating you all the time.  Before I was a little too...I don’t know, too focused on you.  I wasn’t working, I wasn’t seeing many other people, my whole being revolved around you.”  He shrugs.  “But it’s different now; I can give you your space.”

Well, the boy does make a compelling case.  It was only after we broke up that I realized how cocoon-like our existence in Tennessee had been, and how dangerous that proximity became when we moved to New York.  We had nothing but each other to occupy our time with, and so life became entirely about the other person.  Sure, it’s cute and that’s what’s so great about relationships, having that special someone, but they can’t be who you are.

That was my biggest mistake, and one I’ve made before with men.  I made my life all about him, so when he was gone there was nothing left.

But now, I have a life of my own, a life for myself.  I have an apartment, a job, a group of friends.   I have my own priorities that have nothing to do with anyone else, but are for me alone.  Justin's right: our relationship would be far more balanced, far more stable now that we have other things apart from each other.

“And you got your problems too, Cat.  I don’t even have to say ‘em, you know damn well what they are – they’ve been the same freakin’ issues from day one.”

I lower my eyes in embarrassment.  He’s right on that one too – no one needs to tell me I need to get a grip on myself and stop this insecure bullshit if I don’t want it to ruin everything...well, that which hasn’t been ruined already.

“I just...I just don’t feel comfortable jumping right back to where we were.  I don’t know if I can go back to being your girlfriend right away.”

Justin considers this, before nodding and moving away from me a fraction of an inch.  “Well, let’s take it slow.  Start all over.”

He holds up a finger before I can interrupt him.  “Only this time we’ll know exactly where we went wrong before, so we won’t make the same mistakes again.”

“In theory,” I smile bashfully, a warm feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

“In theory.”

A strange sensation washes over me as I search for a label of some sorts; a way to term this new relationship built with Justin – it feels strange building something new on a something that has been there for so long.  Are we seeing each other?  Working things out?  Dating?

“So, if we’re starting all over, that probably means no sex,” Justin muses thoughtfully, breaking contact with me to lean against the table.  “Unless, of course, you’re the kind of girl that puts out on the first date.”

“Well, we haven’t technically had our first date yet,” I grin, staring at my ex-boyfriend, my friend, and my prospective boyfriend all in one go.

“We’ve had coffee!” he insists indignantly, gesturing to the two coffee cups, one lipstick stained and one untouched, behind him.  “That deserves something.  Second base, at least.”

I smile, the familiar sensation of Justin flirting with me so shamelessly arousing the giggle that had laid dormant for so long.  “You know I don’t like it when you compare sex to sports.  It just ruins it!”

“A kiss, then,” he prompts, a sly grin etching onto his cocky face.

I sigh, knowing the battle with Justin's charm has been long lost.  “If I must.”

And without any hesitation, or any apprehension, or any unfamiliarity, I wrap my arms around Justin’s neck and bring his lips towards mine.

Perhaps this break up was just what we needed to put ourselves back together again, to get to know each other and put right all the things that went wrong.  Perhaps Justin and I will, over time, become a couple again, and resurrect everything that was so right in our relationship.  Perhaps re-entering each other’s lives was the smartest decision we’ve ever made.

Or perhaps it really is over, and neither of us are willing to admit it.