“I have to be up in a few hours so after you leave, lock the door.” He didn’t even look at you. It looked like he had no intentions to either.

His arm was draped over his eyes, dawning a nonchalant posture. You, somehow, thought that the multiple intimate moments you two shared, he would at lease feel a pint of feeling for you.

But there was nothing. You were something to fill in the gaps of pleasure he was missing. He didn’t mess with love; he messed with your heart.

You couldn’t understand it. You knew what he was doing but yet you still found yourself in between him and his mattress.