The morning after

This is my attempt to write from a male perspective. Not sure it worked though. :-)

Wyatt's subconscious spun through the thin fog left over from the night before. A strange mix of memories and sensations filtered through the residual beer haze to create an almost morbid mosaic of images, scents and sounds.

He could remember the bar, but only because there was a stuffed jackalope behind the burly bartender, and he'd tricked his best friend into thinking it was a real animal. That farce had won him $10 and another round of drinks. The evening had started as guy's night out, just some time to hang with his buddies, talk about sports and speculate about what the hell women really wanted.

But then she walked in, and it altered the course of the evening.

He wasn't looking for anything long term, he'd been there and done that, and it always ended badly. He just didn't want to make the emotional investment, he wanted only the physical pleasure of sex in a fleeting moment of passion with a virtual stranger, and then he could carry on with his life.

His single-track focus found a railroad switch, and was diverted toward a new station that had long chestnut hair and was wearing a red dress.

The scent of good, strong coffee drew him toward consciousness by his nose, and his eyes fluttered open to stare up at a foreign ceiling. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, scrubbing his hands over his face before stretching his muscles with a groan.

He expected her to be hovering, waiting for him to wake up so she could start talking at him, but she wasn't there. He propped himself up on his elbows, and scanned the large loft apartment, finding her sitting at her small breakfast table with a steaming cup of coffee and the morning paper; completely oblivious to him.

He flipped back the cotton sheets, his skin pale against the navy hue, and rising to his feet he retrieved his underwear from the lamp shade where they had landed the night before. Finger combing his hair he walked toward the kitchen, and she looked up from the business section with a smile.

"Good morning. There's coffee if you're interested," Zoe said, taking a sip of her own before returning to her reading.

Wyatt was confused, and he turned his furrowed brow toward the magical black brew. She didn't want to kiss him? She didn't want to talk about her feelings? She didn't want to know where they went from here? He felt the foundation of his understanding of women shift, and he involuntarily scratched his head in confusion.

Taking his coffee to the table, he sat down across from her, watching her read as he sipped his coffee. She still wasn't talking. She wasn't even looking up at him, and he felt the knot of dread he harbored in his stomach after every one night stand, open like a fist.

"I'm going to hop in the shower, I have some errands to run," she said, laying the paper down and rising to her feet. "I had a great time. I have your number, so I'll call sometime, okay?" she dropped a light kiss on his mouth before turning and disappearing into the bathroom.

He sat for a moment, paralyzed with shock that she'd actually just dismissed him in the nicest way possible. He dressed and headed for the door, the sound of the shower serving as the morning's music, and he smiled as he closed the door behind himself, smiling at the knowing that this was going to be anything but simple.