Alaska || Auston Matthews

five

ALASKA

Waking up sucks. Especially when your whole body is aching and you're still exhausted despite sleeping for several hours. Proven fact: you can never have enough sleep.

When I open my eyes for the first time this morning, sunlight is beating in through large windows. I squeeze my eyes shut and flip onto my other side to shield them from the brightness. The sun is never this bright when I wake up. I got blackout curtains for that specific reason. Wait a second...

I jolt upright, eyes wide open, ignoring the sunlight. Looking around me, I notice I am in a very large bed in the middle of a large room surrounded by tall windows, covered by only thin drapes. Not blackout curtains. I whip my head to the side, continuing to scan the room. A large dresser sits opposite the bed with what seems like a closet right next to it. It's now that I notice the sound of running water and the smell of cologne. 

Jesus Christ; what happened last night? The last thing I remember is walking out of Mitch's apartment with - oh Lord. I'm in Auston's house. Correction: I'm in Auston's bed. Auston fucking Matthew's bed.

I can't believe this! What the hell am I supposed to do? I don't have a car or money or a charged phone, and even if I did have any of them, I have no idea where I am. I groan and hop out of the bed, pacing back and forth, trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do. I cross my arms over my chest just as a door opens. I snap my head in the direction of the sound to see Auston shirtless, in sweatpants with wet hair. My eyes widen at the sight of him, but I quickly recover and turn my attention back to his face.

"Why the hell am I here?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Well good morning to you too," he says, smirking. 

"Auston, I'm serious. Why am I here?"

"Relax. You were got drunk at Mitch's and Carly left you, so I brought you back here. Nothing happened," he says, clarifying everything. I roll my eyes at the last part, though.

"I was going to get a hotel," I say, remembering my initial plan. 

"Yeah, and I was not going to let that happen," he retorts, walking closer to me by the dresser.

"Why not? Why do you care what happens to me?" I say, moving backward.

"Because I have at least some common sense to not allow a drunk, underage girl walk around downtown Toronto at eleven o' clock at night," he says, opening a drawer and pulling a t-shirt out. I can't help but stare at his back muscles as they flex. I can't form an adequate response before Auston speaks again.

"Plus, look at the hot shirt you got out of this," he says, gesturing to my torso. I look down, my eyes widening. He laughs at my reaction as he slips his own shirt over his head. Instead of seeing the black tank top I was in last night when I look down, a large Toronto Maple Leafs hangs from my body. The number 34 plastered on the front.

"And where did this come from?" I demand. He continues to laugh at my reaction. I, however, do not find this funny at all. It's like a crime to wear another team's shirt. I'm cheating on my beloved Penguins!

"Obviously my closet and before that, probably a factory in southeast Asia," he says, matter-of-factly. I roll my eyes.

"Well, how did I get into it?"

"I put it on you, but like I said, nothing happened," he explains. I groan and think of how badly I wanted to be out of this situation. 

"Trust me, you wear my number well," he says smirking. There goes my last straw.

"Really? I usually hate to disappoint, but this is an exception," I say, pulling the shirt over my head and tossing it onto the floor. His eyes widen and his lips part in surprise. You would think standing in front of a guy you hardly know in just your bra and cheeky underwear would do a number on your confidence, but I'm here to tell you that I have never felt better.