I woke up in a bed that wasn't mine, naked. Yeah… don't judge me. Even I didn't think we'd go that far—it just sorta happened. In an alternate world, I'd be in some stranger's apartment after too many dirty martinis. Waking up early, ready to run, but reality was a bitch.
We share the same apartment, so running away won't help much in this case. It would just make things worse. Even so, I didn't regret what happened. It was nice to connect with someone.
As I sat upright, Heather walked in, naked, drying her hair with a towel. When she noticed me looking, she froze, awkwardly avoiding my chest.
"I forgot that…" she trailed off, trying to act unbothered as she walked toward her hair dryer.
"Where are you going?"
She gave me a lighthearted grin. "Do I need to go somewhere to take a shower?" Her tone was playful.
"Not really."
I kept my reply short and stretched my limbs. I could tell she was trying to be nonchalant, but the crimson spreading from her cheeks to her ears gave her away. She was embarrassed.
I thought maybe leaving the room would be the best course of action, but that might make it more awkward. What should I do?
"I don't regret it," she murmured, barely audible over the hum of the dryer.
"You don't?"
I don't know why I was shocked and relieved at the same time. She must've heard the surprise in my voice because she turned to me.
"Umm, I... go take a shower and wear something comfortable. We leave at eight-thirty," she said, but I doubted that was what she really wanted to tell me.
"Where are we going?" I asked as I got off the bed.
She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'where are we going?' Don't you remember from last night?"
I tried to remember, but my mind drew a blank. All I could recall was the heated conversation between our lips… well, two lips, touching, kissing and much more.
"Umm, oh yeah, I remember now. Turns out I was wrong, and the real killer was the ghost haunting the house. What a dog-wash film we watched last night."
I didn't remember much else from last night, so why not change the topic to something we both complained about and I run off to take a shower?
It worked because her expression soured when she thought about that movie. In hindsight, the low rating should've been a dead giveaway, but we assumed people were overreacting as usual. We couldn't have been more wrong.
"Anyway, I'm going to take that shower so we can leave," I said, power-walking toward the door, but I couldn't be that lucky, could I?
"Wait up, you still haven't told me where we're going." Guess not.
When I faced her, she was pouting. Pouting?! What was she, twelve? "Fine, I'll be honest. I don't remember. Just tell me already."
I figured it was best to be blunt at this point. At least it would help me pick out something to wear that matched the occasion.
Shaking her head and suppressing an amused grin, she replied, "Don't you remember? I promised to take you to the thri—"
"The thrift shop! How could I forget? Sorry, I guess the steamy night overshadowed everything in comparison. Nothing quite compares to the taste of your lips. Both of them."
Her face heated up as she looked away, and I took my cue. I immediately left the room, but before closing the door behind me, I caught a glimpse of that same excitement she had last night when she talked about designing and creating.
She had been especially passionate about convincing me to start buying eco-friendly clothes, telling me how it reduces waste and promotes sustainability. I had to admit, I found her passion endearing—admirable and cute, even.
How could I forget? Before the steamy night, we had an even more intimate one talking. Well, she did most of the talking. I just listened to her share her dreams and aspirations.
My mind wandered as I tried to remember last night while heading to the bathroom. I relieved my bladder and turned on the faucet, waiting for the water to heat up.
"If I remember correctly, I made a comment about her overalls, which led to her excitedly explaining the importance of using eco-friendly fabrics," I murmured to myself.
She told me she had made the overalls herself using recycled denim bought from the thrift shop at a low price. She seemed proud of that. I wonder what's the story behind that?
"I think I told her her overalls were really good, and it earned me some praise and rewards. Then I praised her even more during the tangled night. Ah yes, she invited me to the thrift store to pick out fabrics so she could make something for me as a thank-you."
I showered for about thirty minutes. It had been around seven since I woke up, but I couldn't rush it. After a month of barely showering, it felt cathartic. And of course, I didn't forget to brush my teeth.
Afterward, I headed to my room and decided to wear a pair of jeans, a jersey, and a baseball cap. I dried my hair and pulled it into a ponytail.
I applied light makeup and walked to the kitchen. I prepared eggs, bacon, and bread, along with some coffee to kickstart my brain. I don't usually wake up this early, so it was hard not to yawn or appear drowsy in front of Heather.
Everything was beautifully arranged on the dining table when Heather finally graced me with her presence. I almost forgot to chew when I saw her. She looked… stunning, for lack of a better word.
I grinned at her as she nervously approached. "Look at you. You dolled up for little ol' me? Did my charm win you over?"
Her nervousness disappeared, replaced by a sly smile. "Do you like it?" she asked playfully, but I could tell she wanted my honest opinion.
"It's skimpy. Very scandalous. I love it. But to be sure, twirl around for me, will you?"
She blushed but did as I asked. Her dress was something else, and I shouldn't have been surprised, considering what she wore yesterday.
It was a skimpy mini dress with delicate straps crisscrossing over the open back. The front featured a deep V-neck that draped sensuously over her chest. The hemline barely covered her thighs, and the shimmering silk clung to her body like a second skin, ensuring every curve was on display. I could easily imagine dragging her back to her room for another skin-to-skin conversation, but I was more civilized than that. I hoped.
I hadn't realized I was gawking until I saw Heather awkwardly waiting for my assessment.
"I think it suits you. Did you make it yourself?"
She sat down, her tone cheerful. "Yes. Ninety percent of my clothes are self-made. I'd like to show you more when you have time."
I didn't respond to that. I wasn't much of a fashion person, but I did appreciate fine clothes. We ate quietly, and this time, there was no awkwardness. It was refreshing.