Her clothes were strewn about the room. An empty ice cream container sat on her bedside table, and the sunlight flickered through the broken blinds as the passing of morning traffic grew.
Faced down with her legs hanging off the bed, she laid with nothing but a pair of yesterday's underwear on and an almost empty bottle of Tequila in hand.
She jumped out of her sleep when the sound of the bathroom door closed. As she groggily woke to find a tall blonde man at the bathroom door that she had no recollection of meeting. He was standing there running his hands through his wet blonde hair, beads of water running down his hard chiselled core and her towel wrapped low around his waist, leaving very little to the imagination.
As she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach she cradled the sheets beneath her, rolling herself into a cocoon of bedspread and shame. Realising she had been almost naked with what was the most beautiful man she had ever had in her bed, she lifted the covers high over her face and groaned with embarrassment. She was insecure about the little flab she called a muffin top as she had not been with a man without the lights off since her last boyfriend called her fat.
He smirked as he gathered his clothes together; his boots that had been kicked off at the front door, the white tee shirt and jacket hanging over the back of a chair and his jeans on the floor at the foot of her bed. She gasped as he lifted the sheet beneath her to search for his underwear. He pulled them out from under her buttocks as she giggled bashfully.
Were they going to speak? Was he going to talk about last night? What was his name? She wondered as she lay frozen in fear. What about the state of the apartment? Hopefully he hadn’t looked in the fridge to find boxes of Chinese food and half eaten chicken wings. Maybe if I just lay here he’ll go away.
Just then she heard the apartment door shut.
She pulled the covers down to find an empty apartment and no sight of the gorgeous blonde man. Maybe it was best he left. Or maybe it was a dream, maybe she was still asleep.
She dragged herself to the bathroom, carrying her head in her hand. There she wiped away the fog from the mirror and gave a despairing shrug to the woman in the reflection. She had such a pounding headache, one she became far too familiar with and had woken up every Saturday to.
She sat on the toilet, slumped, on the verge of falling back asleep. With her elbows rested on her knees she was once again startled by the closing of a door, the front door this time. She kicked the open bathroom door but it barely swung enough to close. She got herself together, splashing her face to wake herself up and reaching for the nearest tee shirt in sight. As she slid on the gunpowder grey Van Halen shirt she peered through the crack in the door to see him, the blonde man, he had returned. He was setting down breakfast from the café across the street, taking his jacket off and making himself comfortable.
She quietly shut the bathroom door and pressed her back up upon it, with a dozen thoughts running through her mind. What is he doing back here? He wasn’t just a dream. He bought me coffee and food! Why is he here though? I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t even know his name. Okay shake it off.
Just then she heard the TV turn on, it was the news, all the highlights from last night’s football game. Wow, I guess he really feels comfortable enough to do that, okay. Slowly she made her way out of the bathroom and tugging at the bottom of her shirt to cover her stomach she found the courage to sit beside him on the couch.
He handed her a paper brown bag with an array of breakfast foods inside; breakfast muffins, toasties, croissants and hash browns. She mulled over the contents of the bag, he had done well, if he weren’t here she may eat the entirety. He turned the channel to find a sitcom, something they could laugh about together.
They sat side by side, eating their breakfast, giggling at the TV and smiling shyly at one another.
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