I'm Your Wreck

3- You're Hot

I woke up the next morning with Sam still asleep in my bed. She was laying on her stomach, the blanket draped low on her back. Her skin was bare, her sharp shoulder blades pinching together on each deep inhale. The blond hair that was styled in loose waves last night was now a chaotic mess of frizz that curtained over her face like a tumbleweed.

I couldn't help but feel responsible for the mess, for all of the times I had my fingers wrapped in her hair last night. Should I offer her my comb when she woke up? Or maybe an extra toothbrush? I didn't even have an extra toothbrush.

Hooking up with somebody so randomly was not something I did very often, so I wasn't really familiar with the etiquette of how the morning after was supposed to go. I stepped into a fresh pair of sweats, ran my fingers through my hair, and slid quietly out of the room to freshen up in the bathroom downstairs.

Of course, the door was locked when I got down to the second floor. I leaned against the wall of the hallway, listening to my stomach grumble with a desperate need for breakfast. There was an iHop down the street, probably packed with other hungover college students. Maybe I should offer to take Sam there?

With classes starting the next day, I had a lot to get done and didn't really want to wait in that line for mediocre pancakes. I honestly just wanted to scarf down a bowl of cereal and get started on organizing my notebooks and folders before the semester started. Then, I had to hit the gym, at least for a little while, since club soccer tryouts would be coming up soon.

But I didn't want to be a douche bag about the whole hookup situation. I wasn't going to just toss her out the door. Especially considering it was some of the best sex I'd had in a while, so I needed to maximize my chances on it happening again.

Just as I was looking up the price of getting pancakes delivered instead of dealing with the hungover breakfast rush, the bathroom door opened. Banks emerged wearing a long pair of plaid pajama pants and a plain black tee. His hair was mussed on his head and when he saw me waiting, his jaw hung slack in mid-yawn.

"Morning, Champ," he greeted me with a pat on the shoulder as he walked by. "Sounds like you had a good night, huh?"

I wasn't going to confirm or deny any assumptions, especially not with Sam still upstairs and possibly awake now. Although it wasn't exactly a secret what we were up to last night. She'd invited herself to sit on my lap for the last half hour of the party while we all took turns playing Mario Kart on Walker's Switch.

Everybody saw the way she giggled at me and how I had my hands boldly laying around her hips. They saw us make out by the fridge and I still remembered the whoops and hollers from both of our friend groups when I took her by the hand and pulled her upstairs.

I grimaced at the thought of what my roommates might have heard last night. My bed frame scuffing the wooden floors, Sam's moans that crescendoed to loud peaks when I learned the best ways to touch her. Neither one of us were that drunk, but there was enough alcohol in my system to stop me from caring about how those sounds might have carried to the other guys in the house.

"Sorry, if the noise was..." I grimaced, hating how awkward my voice sounded. I never had to apologize for making noise before. In the dorms, it felt like everybody's bed was knocking against my wall at least every once in a while. I never felt bad about letting my own bed knock when the time called for it. But in a house with only five people, it felt different.

Banks shrugged, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his pajama pants. "No need to apologize. Walker's way worse, that animal."

"I don't do that a lot," I blurted for some reason, because this entire scenario was so awkward that I didn't know how to react. I couldn't stop thinking about all of the noises we made last night, imagining those sounds getting amplified to all of my non-consenting roommates on the floor below us.