100% Straight

Part 5 (Jackson)

The first thing Jackson felt when he started to wake up was something warm encompassing his body.

It wasnt an uncomfortable warm; it actually felt quite nice. Along with the fluffy yet breathable bed sheets and the soft silk pillow, Jackson felt more comfortable than he usually was.

Knowing this, he opted to sleep again, until he realized that the bed he was in resembled nothing of his own.

Jumping out of the bed with an unmanly yelp, Jackson fumbled around the messy, unkept, room until he found a pair of underwear, a shirt, and pants.

Still looking for his tie in the mess of stuff on the floor, a slight noise drew his attention to the bed.

There layed a man, half covered in sheets. He moved around again before settling down and falling asleep.

Jackson eyes widened. A dude. In the bed he just slept in. Jackson's brain refused to compute.

Tilting his head, Jackson looked more closely at him.

His dark black hair covered some of his face, but the covers left little of his body for the imagination.

Taking a deep breath, Jackson closed his eyes and dragged the covers up to cover the man.

Jackson shook his head violently, physically shaking out the thoughts in his head.

His watch beeped repeatedly on his wrist.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Jackson pressed random buttons on his watch in a feeble attempt to turn off the alarm. The last thing he wanted was for the mysterious man from last night waking up. It was awkward enough as it was; Jackson didn't want it to be even more awkward.

As the alarm turned off with a resounding click, Jackson let out a sigh of relief.

He took a reluctant look at the man. Despite the sudden jerks and movements, he looked fast asleep.

This was going to be like all his previous last night stands, Jackson said to himself; get your belongings and rush the hell out of there.

The only difference was that it was a dude instead of a lady in the bed Jackson had just occupied.

Shit! Did he make out with a dude? Jackson put him hand to his mouth as his brain tried to understand what had happened from the bar to here.

Now was not the time for him to have an existential crisis. The alarm served as a wake up call for Jackson to get his shit together and get ready for work.

Knowing that he probably had little to no time to get home (His new apartment was about twenty minutes from his work), Jackson rushed out the door, carrying his shoes and phone.

Luckily nobody was up and about in the hallway outside the man's apartment, or Jackson would've died. He probably looked like a madman, running around with his fly undone, waving his shoes violently in the air.

Technically, that was true. He was definitely a mad man. He typed furiously at his phone, willing a taxi cab into existence, or at least attempting to.

Jackson checked his watch again. Forty eight minutes. This building was about ten minutes from his apartment (or so google maps said), so he had about eighteen minutes to shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, and get the hell out of there.

Jackson checked his watch frantically. Forty seven minutes left.

Finally, the taxi arrived, and Jackson shoved himself into the back seat and yelled at the driver, "Step on it, fucker. I better be there in less than five minutes."

To Jackson's delight, the driver suddenly pushed down on the pedal like a speed demon as Jackson shoved his left foot into his expensive shoes.

Taking an Advil he had stolen from the man's house, Jackson's groggy memory attempted to fill in the blanks of what had happened last night that had put him in the bed of someone the same gender as him.

Four minutes later, the cab screeched to a halt and Jackson opened the car and walked out, before he tripped on his untied shoe and fell onto the concrete sidewalk.

Getting ahold of himself, Jackson wiped the blood from his scratched up face, took his phone and sprinted towards his apartment complex.