Breakfast on Tuesday

2. Drunk girl

I mustered enough energy to open my eyes when I just wanted to stay on the cold wet floor all day until I got sick. That way, I would have a valid reason to skip all my classes today. I desperately needed a reason to get my ass back to my warm bed and stay there.

No matter how tempting the thought, I knew that Eva would be so mad if I failed to show up with our notes. That meant I had no choice but to get off the slick floor and face this blasted Tuesday morning.

Our other friends and classmates were great, but I didn't trust their note taking skills to save my life, let alone pass an exam.

But first things first, I had to get rid of the human standing over me like my drunk ass was beneath him.

No need to help the miserable drunk girl after she hurt my knees with her bike. Maybe she'll catch a cold and die. One less drunk chick to worry about now.

"I don't know why you're shouting but I'm not deaf. I'm also not drunk or crazy," I said, rolling over slowly to peek at the sexy sounding stranger. "I could however use a drink right now. Maybe that makes me crazy."

I prayed his looks didn't disappoint as I glanced up from his feet which were clad in black winter boots. It would be a shame to waste such a good voice on an ugly man. I could think of a hundred ways a voice like that would come in handy.

I perused the rest of his body quickly and got to his face. He stood over me, his thick, jet-black hair falling forward on his disgruntled face as he glared down at me with furious hazel eyes that reminded me of a desert storm.

"I don't know if you're crazy. Nor do I fucking care. I do believe you have had enough to drink." He lifted my bike off my legs while muttering. "Fucking Americans. Always drunk. Always partying."

Woah. Rude. But that accent.

He held his hand out to me and I stared at him like he was mad for offering his help now. I needed his help two minutes ago, but no, he had taken his precious time just so he could watch me in my misery.

"You should try to get off the floor now," he said. "I have work to do, and it's not like me to not help a damsel in distress."

A gentleman but not quite. Gentlemen did not curse or accuse women of being intoxicated without proof. Neither did they leave a lady sitting on a cold wet floor after an accident.

Still, everything about this stranger presented an interesting combination that piqued my curiosity. And my curiosity was never piqued. Not when it came to men.

I placed my hand in his, and surprisingly enough his palm was warm. And large. And slightly calloused. Once I was on my feet again, I touched my throbbing temple and then my shoulder where I found a tear in my jacket from sliding on the brick floor. Staying upright suddenly felt like a chore.

Why did my head feel so heavy?

Because you just hit your big, hard grumpy head on the floor and now your brain is probably swelling in your thick skull.

I would not think about that. I was fine. 

"I'm not an American," I said, wobbling off to the side. Great, now he would have even more reason to think I was drunk.

He reached out to steady me before I could face plant the floor with my teeth first. He stood taller than me and his body radiated heat like a furnace from the pit of hell. Yeah, he was certainly the devil in disguise and all I wanted to do was snuggle closer to him.

But I couldn't afford to lower my standards. It was Tuesday after all and nothing good would come from this encounter. My guards had to stay up at all times. It was the only way to protect myself.

"Where are you from then?" he asked gruffly. "I can't make out where your accent is from."

"I'd rather not say. I don't think I'm ready to hear your wild assumptions and crazy stereotypes about my people." I couldn't help but notice that he was dressed all in black. The black fitted jeans and the black expensive winter coat made him seem edgy, maybe even dangerous.

"Your people... Are you from some kind of tribe? Africa? No, the Caribbean?" The anger from earlier had faded from his voice and now he sounded interested.

"I'm not telling you. I'm just a drunk American who wants to get to her classes. I'm late already as it is." My eyelids drifted down and my head hung lower and lower as I talked. I wanted to sleep and I wouldn't be surprised if drool started running down my mouth while standing up here.

"You're not going anywhere in your condition. I think you might have a slight concussion," he said, guiding me toward the front door of the restaurant called Comida Porno. "Come, let me check your head and get you warmed up before you leave."

As expected, my brain went straight down the gutter. I was a horny nineteen-year-old girl who spent way too much time reading smut on Wattpad. I could imagine a thousand ways he could warm my body up... Starting with my frozen lips.

Alright, that's enough. Don't get caught slipping on a Tuesday. Focus on why you're here. You're here to get your head checked by a stranger who doesn't sound like he knows anything about medicine. And you're going to follow him inside this restaurant anyway. 

I stared at the building before we entered and I remembered this place used to be a small bed and breakfast before, but after the renovation, it had been transformed into a fancy restaurant serving breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

As I stood there, I felt something soft and wet land on my face. Surprised, I looked up and saw what seemed like snowflakes plummeting from the sky. I stared at the white puffy things in awe. They were snowflakes! I'll be damned.

Thousands of snowflakes landed on the floor, disappearing when they made contact with the wet surface.

"Oh my goodness." I squealed and turned around in a circle. "It's snowing. It's snowing!"

"Never seen snow before?" the stranger asked in a dull voice.

"No. And it's so beautiful." I opened my palm and a snowflake landed, almost like a butterfly, in the center of it.

"Don't get too excited," he said. "It won't last. I give it a few hours, one day max. It doesn't snow in Barcelona."

Puffy snowflakes continued to fall on my head and shoulders and some landed on the stranger's gorgeous angular face. His long and dark eyelashes were now spiked with snow and some clung to the light stubble on his cheeks.

Damn, this man was fine. He was also grumpy like me, but hella fine.

"You sure know how to kill the vibe," I mumbled, curbing my childish desire to stay outside and play in the snow. I couldn't believe I had managed to meet someone grumpier than me.

It was just snow after all, right? I heard that snow was only nice for a moment anyway before humans went crazy and trampled all over it, leaving nothing but a muddy mess behind.

I couldn't be one of those humans now, could I? Snow was prettier when it was white, not brown. This snow was quite wet too. Bleh.

My sexy Spanish hero pushed the door to the restaurant open and we walked into a warm paradise where the scent of delicious baked goods saturated the air.

Yum, the scent of fresh chocolate buns was always to die for. Finally, something I didn't hate on a Tuesday morning.

Right across the door, behind the long, black countertop a female head popped up. She too had hair as black as charcoal and it fell to her ass in waves. "Dante, who is that?"

°°°

Who doesn't love a brooding, dark head man with an accent?