Roommates (Roger Taylor/Queen)

32. Good Mornin'

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
'GOOD MORNIN'

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THE EARLY MORNING SUN LIT UP THE ROOM CREATING A PALE YELLOW HAZE whilst the light shining through the gap in the curtains streamed across the bottom of the duvet. I slowly awoke to the sound of birdsong and cars rolling by outside, bringing me to my senses as I tried to open my eyes. Managing to prise them open enough to check the time, I soon closed them again when I realised it was only half 7 on a Saturday morning. Burying my head under the covers to escape the harsh light filling the room, I turned over onto my other side, thinking it was any old day, but it was only when I heard the sound of quiet snoring next to me I remembered that this morning I wasn't in bed alone.

I lifted my head to see Roger sleeping soundly beside me, his face turned away from me and his blonde hair strewn across the pillow. I lay there for a moment, watching his chest steadily rise and fall as I tried to recall whatever memories of last night I could. Sitting up in bed, my head pounded like a drum as I held it in my hands, hoping the pain would go away, before looking down and seeing the pulled back duvet had revealed that I was completely naked.

'Oh my god...' I mouthed in embarrassment, covering myself.

Looking at our clothes scattered across the floor, I carefully rolled out of bed as to not wake Roger and threw on my dressing gown, before collecting the items of clothing that belonged to me, although not getting very far as as soon as I stood up straight a wave of sickness hit me like a bus, making me drop my clothes and run to the bathroom to chuck up last night's alcohol.

As I knelt there on the bathroom floor with my head in the toilet bowl, my mind slowly became clearer. Before, the last thing I could remember was Roger and I drinking and sharing that first, rather awkward kiss, but now I could recall what followed as a result of it - vividly. My cheeks went red just thinking about it; the taste of Roger's lips, the feeling of his hands across my skin, the way our bodies rocked together in passionate unison...

Getting up off the floor before I got carried away, a cold shower and a couple of aspirin later, I put on fresh clothes and headed downstairs to make breakfast - as much as I would have loved to go back to bed and sleep this off I knew I would feel worse if I did. So I decided to busy myself with making a fry up for Roger and whatever else for myself. Knowing the drummer as I did, he would eat anything, hungover or not, that's if the cooking smells didn't cause me to throw up half way through making it.

As I got to work with the radio murmuring in the background, I soon heard the shuffling of footsteps descending the stairs and enter the room. The drummer wandered in, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of jogging bottoms, but I ignored him, too engrossed in what I was doing to take any notice of his presence.

But my attention was soon to be shifted as I stood at the cooker turning things over in the frying pan and two arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

'Good mornin'.' Roger's raspy voice purred in my ear.

I chuckled, 'Good morning.'

'How you feeling?' he asked.

'Rough,' I answered honestly, 'You?'

'Mm, a bit,' he shrugged as he rested his chin on my shoulder, 'You didn't have to go to the trouble of making breakfast, love. I could of done that.'