♫ But all I can taste is the blood in my mouth
And the bitterness in goodbye ♪
{Halsey—Honey}

Too exhausted—and too cozy—to make the trip home, Coralie ended up spending the night at Chester's. They got out of the bath, shared takeout, got a little tipsy, and made love a few more times once they'd made it to bed. She slept well beside him, and his satin sheets caressed her skin, keeping her warm and secure.

When she woke in his arms, she felt like she'd been in a cocoon of comfort, and it suddenly burst open to let reality in. The reality was that she'd done it again—she'd made it so that she'd woken next to one of her contenders, and wondered why she kept falling into their traps.

My own fault, as usual.

Barely moving—she didn't want to wake Chester, who was nestled in the crook of her arm—she grabbed her phone from his bedside table. She'd texted Bella last night to warn her she wouldn't be coming home, and anticipated a text filled with capital letters and expletives in response; but Bella only responded, "be safe." She didn't ask which of the guys Coralie was sleeping with, didn't press for details.

Oh, but she'd press when Coralie got home, and Delilah would chime in.

They need to let me handle this my way.

Sunlight slowly spilled through Chester's curtains, like a headlight blasting over him and Coralie, exposing them. She peered down at him, at his golden curls, at the slow rise and fall of his bare chest. She saw sparks of light in the tiny blond hairs dotting between his pectorals and creeping down his stomach, and continuing to his nether region, hidden under the blanket. He seemed so innocent, so pure in this light—a cute Cupid who'd taken off his wings for the night, and rested in his lover's embrace.

But Coralie knew how opposite his behavior and personality were. She'd been wowed by his ways, lately, but hadn't stopped to think of the means he used, and the consequences of his actions. Of her actions.

He was a whiz with words, a seducer, a player. She'd seen him in action so many times, in the past, and now that she was on the receiving end, she understood how all his other conquests must have felt. Crippled with lust, brain filled with confusion.

All his comments of late returned to smack Coralie in the face. How could he, a self-proclaimed anti-monogamist, want to be with her? How could he, a total skeptic, believe in fate?

He'd been playing it all off since they'd reunited. Smiling slyly, using the words he knew would convince her, reminding her of good times. He'd dished out all the tricks she'd witnessed him employing on others, and though familiar with them, she'd let them get to her, too. And he'd preyed on her deepest, most repressed fantasies and urges, bringing them to life, loading her with adrenaline and fulfillment.

She'd come down from the cloud that was her fantasy of being with him. It was all an illusion. Chester was magical, but his magic came with a price—her sanity. Sure, he comforted her, assuaged her fears, listened to her woes; but in the end, he left her as conflicted as the other two did.

He has my brain, right?

She'd pondered it day in and day out, still trying to figure out which of the guys dominated the confines of her heart. But the more she thought of it, the more she looked at Chester, the more she saw the answer splaying out over his face. Over his delicate, lightly tanned skin; the faint trace of light whiskers over his lips and on his chin; weaving into his bushy brows and twitching them in his slumber.

Yes, Chester controlled her brain. What other explanation was there for how her body craved him, and how the electricity between them tended to shoot up and into her and leave her desperate for more? How her mind raced whenever he was near, and scrambled whenever he spoke to her? It could have been her vagina, sure; but it wasn't her heart, she had no doubt now.

And that, she thought, might have been for the best. Because could she see herself with Chester in a long-term situation? Taking things to a serious level, moving in together, fully committing, maybe getting married?

She scoffed, then covered her mouth, worried the sound of her uncertainty might wake Chester. Luckily, he didn't stir; only continued to breathe with the tranquility of a newborn baby.

Coralie loved Chester; she always had. But she was aware of the warning label that came with him, all the red flags that hovered about him. And for some reason—lust, desperation, a need for soothing—she'd chosen to ignore all those flags and move full speed ahead into this fling with him. She'd chosen to give him hope that all his speeches about fate might have been real.

They weren't. No matter how hard Coralie wanted them to be, those strings of poetic prose didn't add up when exiting Chester's mouth. Though he was a firm pillar in her life, for a time—and was again now, she remembered—he was always unstable, unpredictable, and a tad too spontaneous for her taste. She realized, watching him in his peaceful slumber, cultivating the differences between his awakened attitude, and his dormant one, how careless she'd been.

His regular nature had been dormant, she concluded; the Chester who partied, did drugs, moved from woman to man to woman as he pleased, who took no law seriously, and who lived as he wished to, despite whom he may be hurting in the process. That was the Chester Coralie was most familiar with; and yet he'd suppressed himself to win her over, hadn't he? He'd claimed to be different, to have reformed, but had he? And could he maintain this, if Coralie were to choose him?

"No," she whispered to herself, sneaking out of the sheets, ensuring she hadn't moved him. He grabbed a pillow and tucked it into his arms and sighed; undisturbed and unaware of her abandoning him.

Good. I don't want him awake yet.

Naked, she padded around the bed to fetch the clothes he'd taken off her before they had sex again. It had been hard enough gathering the pants and shirts from the bathroom floor, but now they were scattered around his studio, hanging off the couch, doorknobs, or lounging on the ground near other piles of fabrics.

Once decked with her underwear and bra, Coralie returned into bed, but didn't take Chester into her embrace. She leaned over and studied him, refraining from smoothing the hair from his forehead, from placing a kiss on his cheek. He had issues, always would; but that didn't stop the affection she had for him. She'd never be able to fall in love with him, she saw it now. He was too volatile, too excitable, and it would be a massive risk to agree to date him exclusively. Because though he had been and probably could be exclusive again, it went against his beliefs. He was a free man, with a free spirit, and couldn't be tethered.

Coralie didn't want to force him into a change he'd come to despise her for.

"Oh," she muttered to herself, pulling away from the vision of the slumbering Chester. She leaned against the wall and folded her arms. "I get it."

These mornings—or evenings—of watching her conquests sleep were providing her with more answers than she'd received in a while. More revelations in their silence; more unseen outcomes while she could analyze them without interruption. It had happened with Michael—as he slept, Coralie had concluded that she needed to tell him the truth and spare him the heartbreak. And she'd been right. Now, with Chester, she saw through his facade of enchantment and understood that, no matter how much he might care for her, he'd never be the appropriate choice, he'd never provide her with the appropriate lifestyle.

Which meant she had one more man to watch while he slept, and she'd have her final answer.

Ryan—I need to look at him before he wakes up.

She sensed a growl forming in her throat, but wasn't ready for Chester to wake. She didn't want to explain her process to him yet. It was still formulating, still brewing.

She had to even the playing field, again. Yes, it was what she kept telling herself, but this time, it was the truth. She'd had her steamy session with Michael, and left before it got too far. And she'd had her shot with Chester, and comprehended how impossible a relationship with him would be. So to be fair, to give everyone a chance, she needed to get into bed with Ryan.

It was when she started pacing back and forth that Chester woke, and chuckled at the sight of her.

"What are you doing?" He rubbed his forehead and stretched, seeming unsurprised at seeing her confusion. "Come back to bed." He patted the mattress and though she wasn't positive—his eyes were slitted with exhaustion—Coralie thought he winked at her.

"Thinking." She accelerated her paces as she sighted a pair of lacy underwear poking out from under the couch—not hers—and squinted at the front door.

Should she confront him about that? Should she have mentioned what she'd seen? Of course he had other sexual partners; that was why he always wore condoms with Coralie. But until now, she hadn't stopped to consider how much it bothered her. She'd had her doubts once, and this confirmed them—Chester had other options on the side, didn't he?

Chester waved her back to bed, and after prodding at her for a few minutes, he managed to get her to unveil her plan.

"Ah," he pulled the covers up over his torso, "I see. Let's call it the wake-up challenge, yeah? We, the three contestants, have no control over our fates as you, the dazzling damsel, gets to decide who you love while watching us sleep—"

"—gosh, you make it sound so creepy. And game-show like. This is for real, Chess." Coralie huffed and prepared to launch a cushion at his face; but he caught it and yanked it from her grasp.

"I'm kidding." He offered a weak, still half-asleep smile. "But I get it. It's part of the decision-making; your decision-making. No one can tell you how to do this, Cora. It's your heart at stake—yes, mine, and Ryan's, and Michael's, too—and it's all that matters."

She narrowed her gaze on him. "That's it? You're cool with it?"

"What?" He shrugged. "When have I not been cool about all of this? I'm the one aware of everything, and I've been nothing but accepting, right?"

Yes, but too accepting.

Coralie brushed her hunch off—seeing a different pair of panties hadn't settled with her, though she had no room to judge—and allowed Chester to hold her for a little while longer.

But she was restless. Her mind wouldn't stop wandering, wouldn't stop picturing Chester with someone else. They weren't exclusive—obviously, since she had two other men she slept with—and yet to know he was frolicking with others while she decided didn't seem right to her. She had to have sex with the others, no? To assist with her decision-making, as he'd called it? So why was he having sex, too? Did he have decisions to make?

It was too much for her fatigued self to handle, so early in the morning. Hypocrisy, respect, loyalty—where were the lines? How could she not cross them? How could she expect faithfulness from someone who didn't believe in it, while she went about figuring out who she wanted to be with for the rest of her life? It got her thinking—was Ryan fucking someone else on the side, too? Since she'd deprived him of her body, had he taken it upon himself to get satisfaction elsewhere? And what kind of person would she be if she were to reproach him that?

Chester sensed her unsettled self and nudged her out of bed. "You're stressing me out, girl. I know you have a lot on your mind, and a lot to figure out—so go. Take care of business, do what you gotta do. I'll be around."

He was correct, in any case—if she wanted to get home and change and get to the office on time, she had to leave. So she hustled to the bathroom to fix her face and make herself passably decent so she'd have less work to do at home.

When she returned to the main room, Chester had fallen back asleep. Bundled up in the blankets, hair tangled all over the pillows, he'd resumed his earlier innocence, that air of not knowing, of not caring. She smiled at him, and looked at him close-up one last time. She admired the curves of his face, the strength of his jaw, those long lashes she'd always been jealous of. Sturdy shoulders that had been burdened with so much weight; arms that had received jabs of needles one too many times. He was fragile yet fearless, and she didn't think the adventure of being with him exclusively would grant her much comfort.

It wasn't so much a last time of seeing him in her life; but the last time in a lover-like capacity. Because it was becoming more and more clear to her that Chester wasn't the one. He was reliable for most things, but not for the safety of her heart. Not for the stability she sought in the long-run. Chester would never be what she needed—mentally. Physically, he pleasured her in ways no one ever had, and she was grateful for that. But she'd never rest, never trust him to be faithful.

He and Michael shared possession of her brain and vagina, she'd decided. It was obvious. They both brought intense thoughts and emotions, but also animated her libido and fed her with their delicious bodies. But she'd never be one hundred percent certain of them. Chester, because he was flighty and finicky; and Michael, because she didn't deserve him and worried he'd realize that and walk out on her. And he'd be right to.

It was Ryan who owned her heart—Ryan, the damaged and damaging man she was certain of being in love with. He'd trampled on her heart, squished it, drained it of life—but still, he kept it in his grip. He was the one who got away, after all; how could the situation not end with him?

As she left, she blew a kiss to Chester, knowing full well he was asleep and wouldn't see it, but it was symbolic. It meant goodbye, for now, my friend. She blew another kiss towards his window, meaning it for Michael. Goodbye forever, my darling; she'd never gain his trust again, and didn't want to waste time trying. It would be no use.

She turned to the corridor and shut the door behind her. One door closed—two, in this case—but another had opened, and she had to reach it before it slammed in her face, too. Ryan was notoriously moody; a beautiful but brooding specimen who might have already changed his mind on her, he'd warned her as much. So she had to hurry and make plans with him before he decided for her.

Ryan, I'm coming for you.

♥♥♥