Coffee & Criminals

25. Open Up

When I woke up, it wasn't like some slow dreamy thing where the darkness finally released its quiet fingers from around my heart and I opened my eyes all nice and leisurely and whatever stupid metaphors you want to add to describe the perfect waking up moment. There was no gradual change from unconsciousness to reality. My eyes literally snapped open and I sat up so quick that the blood from my head drained too fast and I almost blacked out again right there and then.

And then, get this, since the very first thing that I thought I should do was run away, I didn't realize how tangled up I was in the sheets and in my momentary panic, I actually fell of the bed. I landed on my butt and almost hit my head on the bedside table and the whole nine yards that comes with tumbling off king-size beds. And then, as if that was not bad enough, the sheets that I was wrapped up in also came down with me because I had tried to grab onto them to stop from falling which left just the mattress and pillows.

So there I was, completely clueless as to what happened, numb from my head to my toes, buried under a pile of white bedsheets on the marble floor of some strange house in some strange bedroom in some strange place with a giant clump of Ace bandages wrapped around my left shoulder. And the bandages actually had frowny faces drawn all over them with a black marker.

But of course, things just had to get worse.

"Is the carpet more comfortable than the bed?" A deep, lazy voice asked with detectable amusement, coming from the doorway. "Because if I had known that, I would have had fewer sleepless nights."

I glared at Wolfe, who only grinned back. "What happened?" I questioned dryly.

"You keep asking me that." He said quietly. "I thought you would have figured it out by now."

I threw my hands up in frustration and then winced. My shoulder felt stiff, like after a rigorous workout session on leg day that cramped up muscles and was hurt when pressure was applied. Whatever wonderful numbing thing that I felt after waking up was disappearing. My shoulder only hurt when it moved. I still hadn't figured out what had happened and Wolfe seemed reluctant to tell me.

Speaking of Wolfe...I glanced over to him, still sitting on the floor. He looked good. He always looked good. He was wearing a light blue sweater that matched his eyes and a pair of khakis with boots. There was a lump in his front pocket but I knew better than to think it was his dick (or at least I hoped I was correct in this assumption and that it obviously his gun) and he was frowning, as usual. Wolfe hadn't shaved in a few days and a thick stubble covered his cheeks and jawline. His eyes, cold and blue and unforgiving as always. But there was another look underneath that layer of iciness and it almost looked like regret. It went away as quick as it came, and was replaced with the same look of amusement, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes every time I did something stupid. Which, unfortunately, was very often.

The room I found myself in was very large and luxurious. The bed that I fell off of was enormous, big enough to fit at least four people with a hanging canopy overhead, which was sheer and black and tied in the corners with braided rayon thingies. The floor was marble and accented with a few gold designs and the windows went from floor to ceiling, covered with the same gauze curtains that hung around the bed. There was a balcony leading out to a landscape of trees and skyscrapers in the distance, a door near a white wood chest of drawers, and third door that Wolfe was leaning against.

"Well, I haven't." I clutched the bedsheets closer to me. I just realized that I wasn't wearing the clothes I left the house in this morning. Where my cute sweater and jeans had gone, I didn't know. Instead, I was in a white men's shirt and basketball shorts that were pinned in the corners because they were too big for me. I looked ridiculous and I felt practically naked under the piercing eyes of Wolfe Sterling, but that was nothing compared to the feeling I was getting from the realization that I never changed into these clothes- meaning, Wolfe must have. Pulling a side of the bedsheets over my head, I looked at him from under my toasty warm makeshift swaddle. "What color is my bra, Wolfe?"