King of Harts

11

Emory

Someone's alarm is going off and I know it isn't mine because I'm pretty sure Xander convinced me to call out of work last night because he has the day off today.

Aggravating little shit, that best friend of mine.

It's so loud and my head is throbbing and I'm afraid if I open my eyes they might melt right out of their sockets.

"Xander is that your alarm?" I whine and feel around to find the source.

I'm on the couch.

Of course I'm on the couch because we'd gotten so drunk that we fell asleep mumbling words to music that wasn't playing into the microphones last night.

Flashes of our drunken bender start to play in my head, the alarm making it difficult to piece it all together.

"Xander!" I groan, hating the noise more than I hate most things right now.

"Not me" he grumbles from somewhere in my living room.

"Sorry" that was Grayson.

"Turn it off or get out" I groan and then begin to shift, hoping to find a more comfortable position.

I miss my bed. I'm usually great at finding my bed when drunk but I guess last night wasn't one of those nights.

I think I'm still drunk if I'm being honest.

"Ugh! I'm going to my bed" I decide and climb off of the couch with my eyes still shut because I just can't find the strength to open them.

It takes me six steps to trip over something and land on top of something else with a thud and groan below me.

Flesh. I feel inches of warm flesh beneath my palms and that holiday scent fills my nose making my anxiety spike through the fucking roof because I just remembered that he was here.

That's one way to sober a girl up.

I remembered that Grayson and Xander convinced him to get just as drunk and I remember that we had a somewhat normal encounter last night.

I gave him scones. As a peace offering and a step into taking Xanders advice of him trying to be friends, I'd given him scones.

How charming, Mo.

He doesn't have a shirt on. He doesn't have a shirt on and I'm on top of him and I hate my life because why?

"Good morning to you too" he mumbles all groggily with that sexy ass morning voice I knew he'd have. I knew he had a hot morning voice, I just didn't think I'd hear it one day, let alone while on top of him.

I'm still on top of him and I can't find the strength to get up because the horny part of me doesn't want to and the anxious part of me is too scared to even move.

Get laid!

Maybe he'll just throw me off of him. He could do it. It wouldn't be that hard for him because he's built like the goddamn Terminator.

"Why don't you have a shirt on?" I whisper when I finally peel my eyes open, adjusting to the light, which wasn't so hard because he's laying in my dark hallway.