The Hunter's Angel

F*cking Pancakes

I woke up with a hangover from hell.

My head screamed bloody murder as I ran a hand over my eyes, trying to blink away the cloud of grogginess.

As my vision settled, I looked down to see that I was in my bed, still dressed in my outfit from last night.

Thankfully, my shoes had been taken off.

Stripping off my clothes, I pulled on a pair of sweats and a loose-fitting t-shirt.

I dragged myself into the bathroom with a groan, brushing my teeth and wiping off the mascara that managed to get all over my eyes.

What the hell happened last night? I remembered getting annoyed with Hunter and downing shots with Kat. And then the two of us danced together until...oh shit.

I had definitely hooked up with Hunter.

The pieces started fitting together in my mind as I shuffled into the kitchen, mouth dryer than the Sahara.

Pouring a giant glass of water and popping two Advil's, I tried to figure out just how much I had done with Hunter last night. 

"Morning, Angel."

I shrieked, jumping in the air and turning around to see Hunter in the living room, sprawled out on the couch with a sly grin.

"Holy shit, you just gave me a heart attack! What are you doing here?"

Hunter cocked an eyebrow. "Somebody had to take your tipsy ass home after you passed out."

Shit. Passed out? I never got drunk enough to pass out. What was I thinking?

"Crap," I mumbled, running my hands over my face. "How bad was it?"

Hunter's grin spread. "You definitely weren't bad at first. Well," he said playfully, "you were bad, it was just the good kind."

My cheeks glowed bright pink, and I looked down in pure embarrassment as I remembered all the bad things we did.

If my memory served me right, it felt damn good too.

"But once all that tequila hit you," he continued, "I would just say it was plain bad."

I groaned, not even wanting to hear the details.

Hunter chuckled. "I believe you said something along the lines of me needing some tequila to relax, before blurting out that you liked me."

My lips parted in shock. I said what?

I was seriously never touching alcohol again.

"I'm sure you just misheard..."

"Mmhmm," he drawled, clearly not believing a word that came out of my mouth.

Great. I might as well have gotten on my knees and told him all about the dream I had too. Not like it could get any worse.

Trying to ignore the flood of embarrassment that I was drowning in, I asked, "So, you carried me home?"

He nodded. "I mean, just to the car and then up to your room. But Liam interrogated me before I left, making sure I wasn't trying anything. He's a good guy."

I smiled softly. That was Liam, always looking out.

"I felt bad leaving you in those clothes, but I didn't want to...you know," he trailed off, looking away with awkwardness.