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of her dress.
    #
    Michael couldn't sleep that night. He was humiliated by his actions and
wondered what had overcome him. He concluded that he had a major lapse in
judgment while in a vulnerable state. Yet somehow now that he was not in that
state or in that situation, he wanted the same thing, to pull Caitlyn close to
him and tenderly kiss her. He wondered if she would want to see him again, or
if he would have to wait another seven years to let this blow over. He paced the
floor of the motel room.
    She was gorgeous. In college, he had always found her a little awkward. She
hadn't quite decided who she was going to be and was often a contradiction, but
in her coffee shop she looked comfortable, and her disheveled appearance was
anything but awkward. He caught himself gaping when he saw her in that black
dress, and she wore it with a confidence he had not seen in her before. Her
silky skin teased him all night. He thought of her long legs walking across the
restaurant and her chest rising slightly with each breath. He couldn’t remember
a time before this that she appealed to him in a way that made him want to drag
her into the closest bedroom.
    He sat on his bed watching TV and thinking about how he was going to
repair their friendship. He flipped through the channels, knowing that anything
that was on at this time was not going to be something he wanted to watch. He
eventually decided that sitting in silence would better suit him. For hours the
image of her soft body lay in the forefront of his mind. He tossed about in his
bed, but the movement only distracted him for a moment. Eventually his
anxieties drove him to sleep rather than keeping him awake, and at 4:57 he
finally drifted off.
    #
    Caitlyn turned to look at the red numbers on her clock. 4:58. She could pretend to sleep for the next two minutes and have to bear the sound of the
alarm going off, or she could get up now. She rolled to her other side, tugged
the heavy quilt over her shoulders, and closed her eyes tightly, wishing she
could fall back asleep if only for those couple of moments.
    Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
    “Noooo!” she moaned.
    She contorted her body to slam her hand against the clock and smashed the
snooze button to delay the next beep for nine minutes. She contemplated letting
the snooze run its cycle but knew that she would just lie there thinking about
the impending torture of the alarm's harsh reproach. She let out another moan
as she propped herself up, stretched her arms into the air, yawned softly, and
turned off the alarm. The wood floors of her cottage were cool against her feet
as she lifted herself out of the bed and slogged toward the shower, shedding
her cocktail dress on the way.
    She stayed out way too late the night before. Usually she went to bed
early—old people early—so 5 AM did not feel good after only six hours of sleep.
While the night was worth it, she didn’t know how to face the day.
    Caitlyn stepped out of the octagonal shower into the steam-filled air of
the bathroom. The warm, dense air cleared her sinuses and filled her lungs. She
hastily dried herself before pulling on a pair of faded blue jeans and a light
pink t-shirt. Her wet hair fell messily around her shoulders dampening her
shirt so that it stuck uncomfortably to her skin.
    She looked in the mirror and shook her head at the image. You could have
had him, she scolded. He was standing in your driveway offering to make your
dreams come true, and you blew it.
    She combed through her hair and tied the strawberry blonde tresses into a
quick chignon. She brushed mascara onto her lashes and paused for a moment to
take in her appearance. It could be better. Caitlyn would never say that she
was pretty, but she could certainly try a little harder.
    She contemplated pulling her hair back down and drying it or doing a more
complete job on her makeup, but a quick glance at her watch told her that this
was as good as it was going to get this morning.
    It didn't really matter