I woke up the next morning on Khalifa’s chest. Just the way I had imagined right from the first time I saw him, but not with the emotions I imagined. My right leg was splayed across his body but I guess you know where exactly it rested on, and his arm was firmly wrapped around my waist, resting on my butt.
My body was totally devoid of any of the emotions from last night and all it had left was the dark feelings of shame and guilt.
Where was my morals now? All my principles, my dignity, my resistance, where were they? I got up to use the toilet and my movement woke Khalifa. He smiled to me and I faked a smile back.
He grabbed my hand, wanting to pull me back, but I spoke with the rest of the little dignity I had left in me.
“No, Khalifa, no!” Maybe my tone didn’t do it, but the look on my face did. He sat up instantly.
“What’s wrong Sahara?” With a totally sincere but unnecessarily serious look. Seriously? After fucking me like the heaven was about to fall last night, you still don’t know why? Everything! Everything is wrong, but I couldn’t say that. I couldn’t say the truth and I couldn’t lie either.
I couldn’t say that nothing was wrong either. Maybe it was just me over reacting. Maybe I would feel better with time. Maybe, just maybe. So I chose my words very carefully and feigned the brightest morning smile I could.
“Good morning Khalifa, I need to prepare for class.” I lied.