I woke up with something on my cheek. The last time this had happened to me, it was a cockroach. I lived on the ground floor of some archaic apartments, so it wasn't totally unusual to wake up with an oversized insect on my face, just horrifying. 

I immediately got up and slapped the critter off my face, which in turn made me slam my head into the headboard. That reminded me that I didn't have a headboard and what I assumed to be a cockroach was actually a bra, my bra. As I looked around I realized that other items of my clothing were scattered around the hardwood floor and none were on my body. I tried to piece the events of the night before together and all I got was a montage of different scenes that probably lasted a lot longer in real time. 

Him on top of me sliding in and out painfully slowly. 

Then me not liking how much control he had, and me on top of him grinding equally slowly. 

Then him, with his hands on my hips, saying he wasn't able to take watching my body move like that. That he wanted this to be able to last all night.

Then him behind me, hands on my hips again, with my face in a pillow. 

I took that same pillow and groaned into it for a different reason this time. 

I thought about last night before the one night stand and remembered the bar. And the gin and tonic. And the other gin and tonic. And then the other gin and tonic, but reasoned that I probably wouldn't remember the other ones so I let it go. But I remembered him. The douchebag at the bar trying to hit on me, running his fingers over my hand whenever he spoke to me and me wanting to throw up. Then I remembered Justin fucking Timberlake showing up. The two involved themselves in a showdown with Justin's face sober and stern, threatening the douchbag to leave me alone. 

If I'm really remembering things, I remember that I was quite a bit high as well as being quite a bit drunk and I just wanted everyone to get along. I thought it would help if I made a grand gesture just to show them that it was okay. That everyone should be having fun here and that there was love and respect and unicorns and that the world was a safe place. To prove this, I unsteadily grabbed Justin's waist and pulled him to me. He stumbled into my stool by the force I accidentally employed, knocking me two inches away from where I was, and grabbed the bar to steady himself. I couldn't actually see his face, but I reasoned it was probably shocked as I had only ever been rude to him. Justin's opponent walked away mumbling about how he didn't know the bitch had a husband.

That's the point where Justin assumed I was going to let go, but I had decided I wasn't. He just smelled so good, good, good and I felt like I was on a carousel with the room spinning so fast, fast, fast and Justin was the pink pony with the bar through his center and I had to hold on or I would fall off and splatter into the background with all the other bright colors.

I can't remember much about getting out of the bar, but I think he suggested we do it. And I would have done anything for him then because he saved me and I was so eternally grateful. I told him how I always thought he was a womanizing ass and completely arrogant and worthless, but I had it all wrong then. I was so stupid. Now I see the light. He was so sweet and selfless, like a Christmas elf, and he saved me from that bad man and I just appreciate it so, so, so much.

"Justin, I'm going to be honest, I think I love you."

"Belle, Im going to be honest, I think you're drunk. And possibly on 'shrooms." He eyed me suspiciously.

I then blabbered on about how much I used to hate, hate, hate that he called me Belle because my given name isn't that southern, but right now I like it and he can call me anything he wants, wants, wants.

I don't remember getting in the car, but I remember stopping in his driveway as he shut the car off. The glow from the dashboard highlighted his jawline and I thought he was so handsome, so I told him so.

"Fuck, Belle, give me whatever the hell you're on. I've never known you to be so damn nice to me." He ran his hands over his face, amused. 

I was still so grateful from earlier that I reached into my purse and pulled out my cigarette case. Inside was a small plastic, yet realistic looking cigarette. I packed it with enough for one hit and handed it to him. 

"Lucy May, I was kind of kidding."

I took my feet out of the floor board and pulled them closer to the rest of my body so that all of me was contained in the passenger seat of his small car. I leaned over the console, put the one hitter between his lips and lit it. He inhaled deeply and without coughing like a pro.

The next thing I remember is us laughing so hard with my legs in his lap and his hand on my jean clad thigh. I was thinking that that was the closest I had ever been to Justin and I didn't know why I hadn't tried it sooner. He was so warm, and comforting and reminded me of the color purple. 

Next we were going up the stairs to his house. I was ahead of him and he was holding my hips so that I didn't fall backwards, but instead he fell forwards, trapping me beneath him and we laughed, laughed, laughed together.

"We should do more things together, Belle." His eyes were wide and sincere, like he had just come up with the best idea he had ever had.

"Like have sex!" I leaned closer to him, excited about my own idea.

"Yeaaaa, like have sex." He spoke like someone who was truly stoned.

I shook my head thinking that it might somehow rid itself of these memories. I grabbed my bra from beside my head and tried to put it on, but my arms were too sore. I didn't even try to remember why that was. I abandoned my bra and went in search for my pants. 

"Belle," I heard his voice on the other side of his bedroom door. "I made coffee and eggs." 

His voice was soft and pleasant and it scared the shit out of me. I hurriedly put my black jeans on one leg at a time, jumping around until I had them fastened. 

"Belle, are you up?" He asked slightly louder through the door.

I knew it wouldn't be long until he deduced I was asleep and entered the room. I didn't want to see him after last night. I couldn't see him after last night. I wanted to remember him as the asshole from the bar who charmed and played every girl he had ever met. I wanted to remember myself laughing at the girls who were dumb enough to go home with him each night. I didn't want to remember myself as one of them. 

That smile, that arrogant fucking smile. I didn't want to see that either. 

He probably didn't even make coffee and eggs. He probably made a few banners and phone calls telling of how he finally slutted me up.

I heard the door knob turn and I did the only logical thing there was to do. I got on the floor and squeezed myself under his full sized bed. My first instinct was to cover my mouth so that I didn't make a sound, but instead chose to cover my chest as I had never actually found my shirt.

He took a few steps and stopped.

"I see your foot, Belle. You didn't make it completely under the bed."

I held my breath and my chest tighter. I was pretending I was a mannequin. Perhaps he had one of those laying around. I hated to admit it, but he was quite fashionable. Maybe a mannequin was necessary for him.

He grabbed my ankle gently and slid me slowly from underneath the bed. He had an amused smile on his face when he saw where my hands were and where my shirt wasn't.

"What are you doin' under there, pumpkin?"

There were a million excuses I had already come up with. I was looking for my contact. I heard a noise and got scared. I was cleaning. A screw fell out of his bed and I wanted to find it before the loss of it weakened the structure too much. I had all of these excuses and I told the one truth instead.

"I was hiding from you."

"Oh, are we playing these games now?" His eyes dropped to my chest, and for the billionth time that morning alone, I wanted to die.