His breathing had already evened out lazy, shallow, like he didn't expect me to still be standing.
The room smelled like his cologne now, expensive and too familiar, the kind that lingered on skin longer than it should. My skin, specifically.
I reached for my dress on the floor, stepped into it one leg at a time, then zipped it up in one motion.
No hesitation.
No pause.
I've done this before.
Behind me, the sheets rustled.
"What's your name?" he asked, voice still rough from sleep and something else i wasn't interested in naming.
I didn't answer right away.
I was checking my reflection in the black window, fixing the clasp on my earring, smoothing the creases on my dress.
I looked fine.
Almost like nothing happened.
I picked up my heels from the carpet, one in each hand, and finally turned to face him. Just enough light to see his eyes, and just enough detachment left in me not to care.
"No need to know," I said simply. "We're not going to see each other again."
That always shuts them up.
His brow twitched.
Not enough to challenge me, just enough to look... curious.
Curious in the way men always are when they realize i'm not trying to be mysterious, I'm just not interested.
"Okay..." he mumbled. "Still—thank you for the night."
I gave him a nod. Not a smile. A nod. And then i walked.
The door clicked behind me like punctuation. Final.
Clean.
Tonight was about breathing.
Just for a few hours.
After the crowd, after the race, after all the applause i couldn't feel, this was my silence.
My reset.
The truth?
It's easier not to be anyone when no one expects you to be something.
And right now, being no one... feels more like myself than any name i've ever been given.