The Almost One Night Stand

Chapter 1

Nimue's POV

Bright sunlight streamed in the windows, making my already pounding head throb more. I groaned as I grabbed the pillow and pulled it over my head. Wait, I don't have silk sheets? I bolted upright and looked around the room. I slapped my forehead, groaning as I realized I was in a hotel room.

Fuck, how much did I drink last night? My cheeks flushed when I started to get out of bed and noticed I was only wearing a t-shirt, and it wasn't even my own. Searching for my clothes, I quickly dressed and headed for the door. I'd almost made it when a way too cheerful voice came from the bathroom behind me.

"Not trying to sneak out are you?"

I spun around to see a tall blonde man that screamed model smiling at me. He was still wet from his shower, and his towel was barely hanging on his hips. My mouth watered just looking at him. Well, at least I hooked up with a hottie. "Well, I, um, really should get to work, uh," I stammered.

"Luke," he said with a grin. "And you are?" I must have had a deer in the headlights look as I stared at him because he burst out laughing. "We didn't do anything, darlin. You were really drunk and your friend left with mine. I wasn't about to let you wander the streets of San Diego like that." I let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Oh, wow, well, um, thanks, Luke. I guess I owe you one." I held my jacket tight around me. My outfit from the club wasn't very modest, to say the least. "It's nice to know there is at least one good man left in the world." He frowned a bit at my comment.

"Hey, would it be okay if I gave you a ride home, or at least got you a cab? I don't want to sound creepy, I just want to make sure you get home safe." He started to walk towards the bedroom I'd just left. "Just let me get dressed, okay?" I stood debating what I should do. I mean, I just woke up in a fairly expensive hotel with a hot guy that claims we didn't have sex, but who knows, he could be a freaking ax murderer. I guess I debated my decision too long because he came out of the room in a snug-fitting pair of jeans and a light blue henley top. Damn, even with clothes he was still mouth-watering. He chuckled, "See something you like little one?"

I snapped out of my daydream, "Hey, I'm not little, I'm fun-sized!"

He threw his head back in a loud laugh. "Well, I might call you something else if you would give me your name, little one."

I guess I didn't answer him earlier. "Oh, yeah. It's Nimue."

"That's unique," he commented.

"Thanks. Is Luke short for something?" I asked back.

"Actually, it is. It's short for Lucian," he smirked.

"Hmm, I like it. You look like a Lucian." I said, a slight blush on my face.

"Well, Nimue, you are welcome to call me whatever you like. Now, how about you let me grab you some breakfast on the way to your house." He grabbed his jacket, and my hand then pulled me into the elevator. Holy shit, I just realized we were in the penthouse.

I gave in. "Okay, I'd like that, but could we go to my flat to change first?"

He looked at my outfit and snickered, "Yeah, probably not breakfast attire." I just rolled my eyes.

When we arrived at my small flat, he looked around the room while I stepped in the back to change. "So where are you from? Your accent is definitely not native Californian," Luke asked.

"Glastonbury. It's a parish in Somerset, England. I'm here on a student visa," I called out from the bedroom.

"Wow, I've never been there. I've been to London a few times for work, but never really had a chance to venture outside of the city. What are you studying?"

"Well, I'm getting my masters in expressive arts therapy at San Diego University. I'll be done this June." I walked into the front room to see him inspecting one of my paintings. I'd swapped my clubbing dress for a much more comfortable pair of shorts and a simple SDU t-shirt. "Sorry to keep you waiting," I told him.

He turned, looking me over quickly, and smiled, "No problem. Well worth the wait." My cheeks flushed as I grabbed my bag and we headed back down to his car. He took us to a quaint little coffee house called Spill the Beans in Seaport Village. I loved looking out over the bay as we sipped coffee and shared a few bagels. "So how long have you been out here?"

"Well, I did my first years in England and started here a couple of years ago. Art therapy degrees aren't popular in the UK. I think I partially wanted to come for the experience. I'd never been to the states before." I played with my coffee mug as I spoke. He was really easy to talk to and kept the conversation light but consistent. "What about you? You don't sound like you're from here either," I asked.

"No darling, I'm not. I'm from Charleston, South Carolina. I've been out here for about six months for work. Not sure how long I'll be here exactly, kinda depends on the job," he answered. "I will admit, I really am enjoying the area, even more so now." He flashed me a cheeky smile, then turned to watch a few ships coming into the harbor and I snuck a few glances, studying his face. His eyes were a chocolate brown but seemed to hold secrets or hurt. He was naturally good-looking with strong bone structure and his blonde hair looked so soft pulled back in a low man-bun at the nape of his neck.

He caught me staring as he turned back to meet my gaze. I knew I was blushing again, but I didn't care. He made me feel comfortable, and that wasn't normal. "So you mentioned that Gayle left with your friend last night," I said, trying to keep the conversation going. I was out of food, but I really didn't want to leave.

He cleared his throat, "Uh, yeah. She left with Jackson. They were, um, well, basically dry humping each other in the booths." I choked a bit on my coffee and he laughed. "Sorry. I really didn't know how to say that politely."

I waved my hand, "Yeah, no worries. Sadly, it's not the first time I've been left behind by her. She is a bit, well, free-spirited." He laughed at my phrasing. "It's just usually I'm not drunk. Matter of fact, I don't drink very often, last night was a specific occasion. I assure you, I don't randomly wake up in strangers' hotel rooms. You were my first." I blushed again when I realized how my words sounded. "I hope your friend doesn't expect a relationship. Gayle tends to be a one-night stand gal."

"Then they will be just fine. Jackson isn't a committed kind of person either," Luke said, shaking his head. "So, if you don't mind my asking, what was the occasion that had you practically blackout drunk last night?"

I frowned, hesitating for a moment, then said softly, "The anniversary of my parent's death."

He reached out and took my hand, rubbing small circles with his thumb, "I'm sorry, Nimue. Not that it makes the hurt any less, but I can relate. I lost my parents when I was young as well." His eyes looked sincere and filled with sadness.

"Thank you," I whispered, then cleared my throat. "Well, as lovely as this escape from reality has been, I really should finish my studies and I wasn't lying when I said I have work today."

He gave me a grin and helped me up from the table. "Should I drop you at your place, or take you to work?"

"My place is fine," I said, "I can't work in these clothes, it's too messy." He raised an eyebrow in question. "I teach painting classes at a little place in Liberty Station, Pinot's Palette. They do painting parties and classes along with wine to loosen folks up," I giggled. He nodded his head and we traveled back to his car.

As we pulled up in front of my flat he asked, "Can I get your number, Nimue? I had a nice time and I'd like to see you again." I quickly said yes and put my number in his phone. "I'll send you a text so you have mine number as well," he said then gave me a kiss on the cheek as I hopped out and headed up the steps.

I turned and watched him leave. I know I just met him, but it feels right. I really hope he calls. Okay, time to work, Nimue, get moving. 

Author's Notes:  This will be a bit of a slow start compared to my last story.  Please follow, comment and vote, my lovelies!