Things Look Different In The Morning Light


She could call it a mistake. She should call it a mistake.

She should forget the five am wakeup call; hung-over and sore. Pry herself from his iron grip, tense as he grunts, relax and slide away as he continues to snore.

She could regret the walk of shame; the drop through the open window, shimmy down the trellis, there should be a serious deja-vu moment to her brief romance with Cappie but somehow it never crosses her mind.

She should regret the walk of shame, she's done it many times before but it's different this time. The stumble across the lawn is graceless and meandering.

A cup of coffee in her hand, her head flat against the marble top she rationalizes everything over and over.

She refuses to call it cheating, not yet anyway.

She was drunk and scared- a tipsy commitment-phobe. He was dumb and easy.

She can't condemn herself just yet, the coffee hasn't stirred the clouds from her head yet; she can't think clearly. But she refuses to condemn herself, or label herself as something she isn't sure she is ready for. Not yet anyway.

He can't be blamed. That enthusiastic smile as his fingers closed around hers, that sparkle in his eye when he realized her intentions. He can't be blamed; he is simply the hapless, happy, victim.

She was drunk and scared and she needed not to think of the promises held in a tiny pearl teardrop. He was dumb and easy and more than willing to participate in ways that required no thinking at all.

It was a terrible matchup she thinks; he's not out of her league but they sure as hell don't play the same game. She strategizes, he moves. But somehow, between midnight and five am, the hours that don't matter, the minutes that are meant to be remember, somehow they were on the same field, speaking and moving as one.

He missed all the cues. He laughed at all her jokes but her wit was wasted; her intelligence too sharp, her tone too abrasive. The spirits may have dulled her judgement but she was quick to reply, quick to snap when he took too long to grasp a concept, or fell into his awful habit of oafish jokes and grade school pickup lines.

But there was knowledge in his hands, and he smiled no matter how bitter she sounded.
He laughed at her jokes, he followed her lead until she shut her mouth and then he took control. His mind was in his matter and when his lips were finished with school boy talk they were busy breathing life into her skin until she was alive in places she never felt before and her words were just as unintelligible as his.

Her phone buzzes against the counter and she mutters some form of a greeting.

Evan is calling, worried, confused; caring. She lies and it is only then that she feels like a cheater.

Meet him at the coffee stand in ten. Still in last night's clothes, she panics.

The skin near her collar bone is red and tender; she remembers lips there last night – a kissing, biting mouth that made her squeal in delight. She tugs at her shirt and heads for the door.

She could call it a mistake. She should call it a mistake.

But she can't quite bring herself to regret it. Not even when the morning light is full of harsh judgements, bouncing off the teardrop necklace, and the promises it held.

She won't tell, and no one will believe him anyway.


So, dont get me wrong I'm all for rebecca/evan, But her hookup and the following episode with Beaver was AWESOME. There is something so opposites attract-y about it . Or maybe I'm just a huge beaver fan. Plus remember the whole tastey morning muffin, top of the morning muffin scene season one- totally full circle!!!

Anyways I couldn't get the hookup out of my head so I thought of this.

Please review =)

-A