broken thieves

four

I'm really embarrassed. Like, really embarrassed. I hate how whenever a single drop of alcohol enters my bloodstream, I lose all rational thinking and practically throw myself at Blake.

I mean, it's not something I'm opposed to do while sober-- if I am even sober yet-- but I'm glad that he was being his heavenly, young gentlemanly self and completely ditched my efforts last night. I wasn't in the right head space, especially not for my first time, and he knew it better than I did.

He's not here when I finally wake up, but I know he came to bed last night. I remember being semi-awake as he came back from his shower, hearing the noises of him rummaging for some clothes, before his arms wound around me and I was passed out again. I'm assuming he went to get breakfast, if the alluring scent of bacon and pancakes wafting from the kitchen is any indication, so he'll be back any minute.

What do I even say to him? Oh yeah, about last night. Sorry I threw myself at you and almost forced you to take my virginity. I was drunk so you'll have to excuse my desperateness- I cringe. God, I wish this duvet would swallow me whole.

I hear footsteps in the corridor outside and my heart seizes in my chest, before I hear Colby cough and enter the downstairs bathroom. I'm given a spare few minutes to think, but all I'm able to think about is how I never should have let my mother control my dating life.

Maybe, if I had been given more of a chance to interact with the male species, I wouldn't be panicking so much about Blake walking through that door. Maybe I'd know how to make it less awkward, and maybe I could forget about last night for good. Instead I feel like I'll be stuck with the memory for the rest of my life, and, every-so-often, while I'm lying awake in bed, it'll be one of those moments that fills me with dread.

However, when Blake finally enters the room, I somehow feel a lot more at peace than I did five seconds ago. He gives me a genuine smile-- not an awkward, tight-lipped smile like the one I give him-- and hands me a plate of breakfast. It's not a lot, as he knows I don't have much of an appetite in the mornings, but it looks delicious. I sit up, run a hand through my knotted hair, and take it from him.

"Good morning," he says, kissing my cheek.

"I could get used to this," I say. I'm not able to look him in the eyes, so pretend to be preoccupied with the food instead.

"Hungover?" he asks.

I shrug, nibbling on a strip of bacon. "Not really."

"We have pain meds in the cupboard if it happens," he tells me. I nod, still not looking at him, but I hear as he chuckles and nudges my side with his knee. "I thought you would need them."

My face warms. "You're really going to bring it up already?"

"Nah," he says. I glance over at him for the first time and see him smirking. "I'll at least wait until you've finished eating."

"You're an asshole."

He unfortunately sticks to his word, waiting for the moment that I place my empty plate onto the bedside table to start talking. "Look, I'm sorry if I disappointed you last night," he says. "You were drunk and, like I said, I wasn't going to take advantage of you."

I shake my head. "No. It's okay. I'm kind of glad you refused."

"You are?"

"It would have been my first time," I tell him, my voice almost as low as a whisper. He already knew that my experience was very limited so he doesn't show much reaction. He does place a hand on my thigh, though, and I'm addicted to those sparks I feel when his skin grazes upon mine. "I definitely wasn't ready."