Patience

                                    

                                          
Shawn's POV
                          
My eyes fluttered open only to be met by the bright sunlight shining through the curtains. I reached up to rub my eyes, and memories of the night before come flooding back. It was kind of a blurry mess, but my clothes scattered across the room served as a reminder. I rolled over to find the space beside me empty. I sighed. This was nothing new. I had been sleeping with Y/N for the past month, and she was never there when I woke up. 
                          
I sat up and looked around the room. My jeans had been tossed to the chair in the corner of the room and my shirt was at the foot of the bed. I looked under the covers and saw that I had put my briefs back on. I really didn't remember much. We had both been drinking quite a lot before we took things to the bedroom. A sudden thought sent a bolt of fear through me. I leaned over to look in the trash can beside the bed, where there was a used condom sitting on top of everything else. I sighed in relief. We had still been safe. 
                          
I got out of bed, and my head immediately started pounding. I realized, with a groan, that I was completely hungover. I didn't feel any urge to vomit though, so I headed to the kitchen to find some Tylenol. I downed a glass of water, and then headed back upstairs to take a shower. As I walked in, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like shit. My eyes were red with dark circles underneath them, my hair was a mess, and there were prints from the pillow on my cheek. When I looked closer, I saw a few dark bruises forming on my neck, chest, and abdomen and my back looked like I had slept with a mountain lion. It was covered in long scratches and there were four crescent moons imprinted on the back of each of my arms. Thank God I didn't have any plans today. 
                          
I stripped out of my briefs and stepped into the shower, flinching when the hot water hit the scratches decorating my back. As the Tylenol started to kick in, my thoughts began to clear up, but the thoughts that filled my head didn't really seem like mine. I began to wonder what a life would be like with Y/N. I tried to shake the thought. I didn't even know what Y/N and I were. We had never actually talked about it, but the closest thing I could come up with was "Friends with Benefits." But that didn't completely fit either. We weren't even friends. I didn't know anything about her or her personal life. We met at a bar about a month ago, and we hooked up. She was hands down the best partner I had ever been with. She was way more experienced than I was, and seemed to know what she was doing, so I agreed to keep seeing her. I didn't know exactly how old she was, but if I had to guess, I would say she was about five years older than me. I still didn't know why she kept coming back to me. I was sure she could find someone else. She was very attractive and amazing in bed. Any guy would be lucky to be with her. Actually be with her. Not this weird relationship we had going on. I would love to make things official with her. I could just imagine a life where we could both be happy. Maybe a wedding or even kids. 
                          
I startled myself with that last train of thought. I had never wanted anything like that with anyone. And Y/N was just a temporary rush. I didn't want that with her. At least, that's what I tried to tell myself. I couldn't shake the thought though. There had been one night when she told me she loved me, but the next time I saw her, she didn't bring it up, and she never said it again. There was also a time when I asked if she would stay until I woke up, and she promised me she would, but the bed was empty when I woke up. 
                          
For the first time, I was beginning to think maybe I should break things off. Or in my case, stop agreeing to let her come over or agreeing to go to her place. But I honestly didn't want to stop. One more time, I told myself. One more time and then you need to move on. Forget her. This whole thing was a bad idea. But that's what I told myself about six times ago. And here I was, in the shower, thinking about marrying her. Was it really such a terrible thought though? We could be happy, right? I actually had no idea. I didn't know what she wanted. Was this even what I wanted? Or was this the hormones talking? I groaned and shook my head, trying to push the thoughts to the back of my mind. They were beginning to make my head hurt again.