Hired (Forbidden Lovers: Rosie Anders)

5 - Condition 7

From black to sudden light, I close my eyes again and groan as the effects of the night before clamber through my head. I turn over and push my face into the pillow and pray for the softness and warmth to do something about the pounding in my skull. I attempt to get up but lose strength when lifting makes the ache worse so I lay down again and sigh heavily. I risk opening my eyes one more time and not feeling any worse (although not any better either) I glance at the opposite wall, taking some time to realise this is not my bedroom. I would never paint my walls such a dull colour as light grey.

I bolt upright and feel my heartbeat increase. Where the hell am I? I look around frantically and spot someone lying beside me underneath the plain, cream duvet. I narrow my eyes and peer at them closely as they groan but seem to stay asleep. Long brown hair? Must be Chloe. Except this isn't her bedroom either. This wasn't exactly our first night out together and we have definitely crashed at each other's enough times to know that this is not any of our rooms.

A soft sigh beside me sounds and I look down to a sleeping figure on the floor, undoubtedly the figure of Kacey. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand, prepared for the fact I might fall over. It's been known on occasion for me to still be a little bit drunk the morning after. I sneak over to the door and twist the knob slowly, so as not to wake up the other two. I need to know where we are. I head for the stairs, noting the still plain decor throughout and only one other room up here over the other side of the landing which must be the bathroom. I stop at the top of the stairs and look down, wondering if I am sober enough to make it down.

"Need some help?"

My hearts skips a beat as the voice registers in my ears. I tilt my head up slightly to match the voice with the face. "M-Matthew?" I stand up straight. "What are you doing here?"

He smiles. "I live here. Kind of." The last two words are murmured as if it's a silent cry to be asked what he means by that but at the same time that he doesn't want anyone to pry. "Would you like some help?"

I take a deep breath and shake my head. "I'm a big girl, I think I can handle a flight of stairs on my own." I decide not to look at him as I place my feet on the first step, knowing he's probably looking on with every bit of amusement he can muster, and focus on holding onto the bannister. I've never held onto anything so tightly before.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes!" I hiss, ignoring his clearly amused state. I make it half way and stop for a break, making the mistake of looking at Matthew again, smile plastered over his face. "Do I amuse you?"

"Right now? Yes, you do, Rosie. You amuse me a lot." He walks up the stairs and takes my hand. "But it is agonising watching you attempt to walk down a flight of stairs." He guides me down and I'd pry my hand away but I am secretly grateful for the help. "You really overdid it last night."

"You were with us?" I ask as I follow him, slowly, to the kitchen.

"Only at the end, when you came out the bar." He switches the kettle on and gestures for me to sit at a small round table. "You practically hollered at me from across the road as I came out of work."

"Oh God!" I run a hand over my face and stare at the table.

The kettle comes to the boil  and after a few tinkling sounds, a mug is placed in front of me along with a small jug of milk.

"Thanks." I take a grateful sip of coffee despite the heat and ignore the burn on my lips and tongue as I look at him. "Why are we here, in your house?"

"You really don't remember anything from last night, do you?" He looks at me carefully and it's hard to tell what he is thinking.

I must have done something pretty stupid for him to ask that. "What did I do?"