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Someone banged on our door at 7:05 a.m.
“Sunlight.” I groaned, waking from my stupor and my retinas realized we hadn’t closed the windows and now the eastern sun was blazing us a hearty good morning!!!
“You mean the door.” He untangled himself from the abused blankets. “I’ll get it.”
I tried to convince my tortured retinas they could process sunlight. His toned backside was a nice view. “Sterling.”
“What?”
“You’re naked.” I mean, I didn’t mind, but someone else might. Although it was hard to imagine anyone with a pulse objecting to a view of Sterling’s marble physique.
He looked down at himself, then fished around on the floor for something. He found his pants from the previous night. He only bothered with tucking most of himself in and half-zipping.
I passed back out, duty fulfilled.
Sterling came back and collapsed back into bed, pants and all. He woke me up in the process. Jerk.
“Who was it?” I asked.
“Wrong flat.”
“This sunlight is murder,” I mumbled.
He slapped at his nightstand and the curtains swished shut.
“That’s civilized. Why didn’t we do that last night?”
“The sun wasn’t shining.”
“You’re still drunk.”
“Hungover.”
I groaned agreement.
While we’d been out, Sterling had told his property company to stock the condo, and when we’d returned, it’d been to a full bar. We’d both been far too drunk to drive home, so calling a rideshare had made obvious sense, but we’d made out shamelessly in the backseat, so the driver had shoved us out three blocks from the condo and cursed at us that he’d be uploading the cam footage to shame us. We’d stumbled back, spotted the bar, and decided that continuing to poison our livers while playing with ice cubes, candle wax, and matches was the responsible adult thing to do.
There was candle wax on the sheets and I couldn’t remember why. And some in my hair—wait. That wasn’t wax.
Ug.
Ug.
Sterling said, “Come on, hydration time.”
“Shower.” I dragged myself out from under the sheets. “My brain feels too small.”
“Water first. You’ll pass out in the shower.”
“But I’ve got… stuff in my hair.”
“We both know how it got there and what it is. Now it’s time for water and oatmeal.”
I oozed booze out of my pores and my mascara had smushed down the side of my face like asphalt and I was still covered in glitter. So was he. Everywhere. And the sheets. I groaned as he literally pulled me out of bed by an ankle. I dragged the blankets with me and thumped onto the floor. “Noooooo.”
I clung to the sheets.
He kept dragging. “Water is this way.”
