Chapter Eighteen ~ Russia

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Opening my eyes, I realize I finally remembered to close the curtain, so this morning there is no harsh sunlight to get me out of bed.

This is nice for a change.

I roll over on my side, and what I see confuses me entirely.

Alfred's sleeping face is inches from mine.

My eyes widen, how the hell did he get in here? Why the hell is he in here?

I move to get up, to get away from him, but I'm stopped by a flood of pain. I almost groan, but I shut my mouth to keep Alfred from waking up.

That would be extremely awkward. Why the hell am I so sore? What is going on?

I slowly, painfully, I get out of bed. That's when I remember everything. All the kisses, drinks, words, and breaths exchanged last night.

I curse my ability to remember everything that happens, even when I'm drunk. I feel my face burn, and I throw on a shirt, some gauze on my neck, and pants over my boxers.

Dammit why would I do that? Why would he do that? What is wrong with me?

As quietly and quickly as I can, I walk out of my room and into the kitchen. I go to sit down on a stool, and think better of it. Instead, I turn on my coffee pot, standing and waiting.

What if he remembers? How will I talk to him? What should I say? What do I do? Did I really like it all that much? His lips on mine just felt so.... NO! Stop thinking like that! He is a child! I'll never like him like that! But to have someone to finally hold and touch... NO! I will not let my loneliness get the better of me! I've never needed anyone else before, what makes this any different? I don't like him. I. Don't. Like. Him! I DON'T! Do I?

Beeeeep.

The coffee pot jerks me out of my thoughts, and I grab my usual coffee vodka and walk out into the living room. As I take a sip, I hear my office phone ringing.

I walk in, and answer, "Hello?"

"ALFRED F. JONES HOW COULD YOU IGNORE ME ALL NIGHT? YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER BY NOW! DON'T YOU DARE THINK YOY ARE GETTING AWAY WITH THIS! WHEN I GET YOU HOME YOU ARE GOING TO PAY! YOU HEAR ME?"

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