After I'm done scrubbing my face I plop on top of my bed. It's soft, comfy, but hotel rooms remind me of my time spent with Boston. I'd picked a different property than the one we'd stayed at but it didn't matter. The smell, the generic layout of the rooms, it was the same difference.

There's a knock on my door and I know it's got to be Derek. Tossing the covers off of myself I walk up to the door gingerly. If he's here this late he probably wants something I'm not sure I'm willing to give just yet. After what happened abroad, in a moment of sadness and weakness, things between us have been convoluted.

I want him but I don't know if I'm ready for that. It's been really confusing. He's extremely supportive and not to mention attractive. But there's a part of me that is guilty every time we get close, closer than what is considered normal for people who aren't in a relationship with one another.

Once I'm at the door I look down, debating if I should change into something more than just a tank top and panties. You're here to get over him. I have to remind myself often because it feels like I'm here to remember him instead, keep the memory of us alive.

When I open the door I freeze.

I blink a couple of times knowing the image in front of me, the person in front of me, can't really be here. It would be the mother of all coincidences if he is. His eyes scan down my body and I feel my cheeks flush.

"Cherry." My throat goes dry at the sound of his voice. "Can I come in?" I look down at my current state of undress and then back at him. "I've seen you just like this many times and there's also the fact I've already seen all of you." I deliberate for another moment before letting him in.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Saw you and your professor chatting in the street then caught up with him at the bar." I feel my eyes nearly bug out of my head. "He had no idea who I was."

"So then I'm confused why Derek told you my room number."

"No, Derek didn't give me your room number. The lady at the front desk did." That makes more sense. "But I did have a nice chat with him at the bar."

"About?"

"Woman problems." I arch a brow at that. "Seems like the professor is quite taken with you but you're in spousal limbo or whatever the fuck he said."

"Considering my spouse is here in my room right now, seemingly jealous even though I haven't seen him or talked to him in five months, I'd say he's not wrong." He purses his lips and looks away from me. "So that all brings me to my next question— why are you here?"

"I'm opening up a tattoo shop here."

"No, I mean in my room. What are you doing here?" I gesture to our surroundings.

He runs a hand through his hair and rocks on his heels. "That's a good question. I guess I just wanted to see you in person. I haven't seen you in person since..." Since last December, nearly ten months ago, where we had an endless amount of 'end of relationship' sex. "It's been a while." His eyes scan over my body, lingering on my underwear.

"Boston?"

"Huh?"

"My eyes are up here." He laughs at that. "I'm serious!"

"I know you are. But I know where your eyes are. They're one of your best features." His eyes roam over me again and I can't help but flush at his hungry gaze. His eyes land on another area of my body, my chest. I'm about to reprimand him again when he reaches out and grabs ahold of my necklace. He fingers the rings with a pained look on his face. "You still wear them?"

Always. But I don't answer him verbally since the answer is obvious.

He reaches down and grabs ahold of my wrist, the one that still is encased by the gold bracelet he gave me.

"And you still wear this?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Do you still wear yours?" He strips off his shirt and I see the gold chain hanging around his neck with the ring on it. "You didn't have to go and take your shirt off. You could've just pulled the necklace out or answered verbally." But he had done it on purpose, because now that he's shirtless, I can see that he's a bit more buff. He's more toned too.

"Want me to put it back on?" I look his body over, missing the sight of it. He's so handsome, even without the extra buffness and tone. He was perfect the way he was. "I take it that's a no?"

I roll my eyes at him with, "you probably should."

"But you don't want me to?"

"You know how attracted I am to you. I married you for fuck's sake." He snorts out a laugh at that but then frowns.

"Heard you were trying to move on."

"Well, when your spouse blocks you from everywhere, I'm pretty sure it's safe to do that."

"Fair point." He reaches out for me but I dodge him. I had no closure because of what he did.

"Why did you do that?" He looks away from me. "I get it, I hurt you, but you didn't need to void me from your life."

"Don't you get it?" He lets out a wry laugh of a noise. "I can't fucking void you from my life, no matter how badly I want to or try. I'm still not over you." He grabs at the chain around his neck. "If that isn't already obvious."

"You still dead set on the same future?" His features look pained and I know the answer. Yes. He still doesn't want what I want. "I see."

"I still want you though. I still want to be with you. Still want to have a future with you."

"You want to have your future," I corrected.

"Yeah, because I'm a selfish prick and don't want to pass on my genetic flaws or die when they're like five or whatever. Sue me." He snatches his shirt and puts it back on, flexing every muscle as he does so. My traitorous body shivers at the sight. "Why do you look like you want to fuck me?"

"Wow, you're an arrogant asshole." I go to walk away but he grabs ahold of my arm, pulling me into him. "Boston, what're you—" His lips are on mine. His hands are all over my body and I hate the way my body automatically responds to him. It's natural, almost instinctual. After a moment I manage to push him off of me. "Don't do that. You can't do things like that."

He arches a brow. "And why not?"

"Because you know I want you. You know I still care for you. It fucking confuses me because I'm angry with you. And," I shake my head and scan his body again. He's even more fit, delicious looking, really. I'm sure there's someone appreciating all the man that is Boston. "And my guess is you've slept with other people." His features harden and it makes my heart hurt. "You have, haven't you?" He nods and I turn away from him, not wanting him to see the emotions going on inside of me. "Are you seeing someone?"

"In a way— yes." I feel my fists tighten, nails pressing into the flesh of my palms. "It's just sex."

"It's just sex?" I let out a sardonic laugh. "Just sex." I bite my lip trying not to snap at him. "I think you should go now."

"Monica," he steps around me but my gaze holds the ground, "come on, look at me."

"No."

"Look at me." His finger goes to my chin and tilts it up. When my eyes meet his I nearly break down. "There it is. Exactly what I was talking about."

I swat his finger away from my chin, "what the heck are you talking about?"

"That look like you hate me. You said it was fine, that I'd still be me. What? Is the reality of what you told me I could do too much for you?"

"Fuck you, Boston." His jaw ticks. "I hate this."

"Hate what?"

"That I want you still and I hate you all at the same time."

He looks taken aback for a second, "so now you actually fucking hate me because I gave you what you wanted?"

"I didn't want you to go and fuck somebody else! I wanted space! I was just trying to be fair!" I put my hands in my hair and grip the roots, the tightness is stress-relieving. I can see why Boston and my dad do it. "I never stopped wanting you. I just wanted you to change your mind but you did the exact opposite."

"I did exactly what you told me I could. It's just sex. That's all. Nothing more. Nothing less. It's just physical." I grip tighter, enjoying the physical pain helping me process the emotional. "Stop that." He pulls at my arms, making my hands leave my hair. "Come here."

"I don't want to."

"You're lying." I hate that he's right. He pulls me in for a hug and I inhale deeply, taking in all that is Boston. "I've missed you."

"Have you? Even while fucking someone else?"

"Especially when fucking someone else." He lets out a heavy sigh. "Sex with you is different. You make me feel things."

I have to swallow back the lump in my throat. "All of the things?"

"Yeah, baby, all the things. Even now." I jam my eyes shut even tighter. "I still feel all of the things." His words were barely audible and I don't know if I'd been meant to hear them but I did. "I want you." That was loud enough for me to hear.

"That's not happening." I pull away from him, out of his warm embrace. "Sex isn't just sex for me."

"You almost had sex with the professor." I feel my cheeks flare. "Yeah, he told me about that. What was the line of almost for you though?"

"You really want to know?" He shrugs but something tells me he's morbidly curious. "I let him touch me. I touched him. When it got down to actually having sex I don't know. I panicked. I blurted out that I'm married which had the effect of dumping an entire bucket of ice water on the entire situation."

"Are you going to sleep with him?"

"I don't know. I probably would've tonight if it had been him at the door." That makes him grit his jaw. "How about your girl? She here with you?"

"She's not my girl. She's a fucking friend. In more way than one. That's it. But yeah, she's here with me." That news makes me feel like I'd swallowed a lead brick and it's sinking to the pit of my stomach. "So what do you want to do about you and I?" He reaches out and caresses my face. I close my eyes with a sigh. "There's still something here, between us." The pull is undeniable, he's right.

"I know there is but I don't know, Boston."

"Do you want to get a divorce? Cut all the ties?"

"No." I answered too quickly. "I don't want that."

"You still want to be my wife?" His tone is heavier, thick with emotion. "But you still don't want to be with me?" I open my eyes and find his.

"I'm confused. This is all so confusing."

He takes his phone out of his pocket and clicks a around a few times. "I should've never blocked you that day. We should've never stopped talking, communicating. I made you promise nothing or no one would get between us. I'm a fucking hypocrite."

I hold my index finger and thumb up and pinch them together saying, "maybe a little bit."

"When are you heading back to Virginia?"

"Wednesday."

"Will you come by and check out the shop?" I bite the inside of my cheek. "Personal tour of the current shit show." He wriggles his brow. "You know you want to."

"How about Sunday?"

"That sounds good." He gives my forehead a swift kiss then heads toward the door. Before he leaves he turns around one more time. "Goodnight Monica."

"Goodnight Boston."

A/N:
Happy Saturday!