Not a Reunion

Chapter 39

Thea

My head pounds when I wake up the next morning, rubbing on the pillow, which is definitely not mine. I feel my head sinking into the fresh plush of the pillow, as if it hadn't been used ever. I groan as I attempt to pick my head up, but I cannot seem to manage the first or second time. By the third time, I could feel my head as if it were the heaviest part of my body.

I roll over onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, which is definitely not mine. There was a fan attached to the light, and I desperately needed it because it was so warm in this room. I start to move under the blanket, and as soon as I do, the sun shines brightly on my bare skin.

Bare skin.

I look down at the blanket and find all of me just staring back at me. There were tiny tints on my skin, as if the spot had been sucked on. I groan as I try to think about how last night went down.

Mason is flirting with me.

I grabbed my own drinks as well.

Chugging drinks upon drinks.

Dancing to my favorite songs.

Dancing to a familiar song.

Lost in the memory of a past one.

Warm lips on mine, the shape so familiar that it seemed to be indented to my skin.

Mason pulled back, saying if we were to kiss again, we would end up in his home.

"Oh, my God," I whisper to myself when the flashback ends, and I start to remember whose bed I was laying in. Mason's. Oh, my God. I could not believe it. I couldn't believe that I had ended up here. I couldn't believe that my pelvis ached as if I had done something.

Fuck.

No, not literally. Yes literally. Hell, judging by the ache in my body, it didn't happen just once. Oh, my God. What did I do?

I scramble off the bed and take notice of the side that was empty, void of anyone still sleeping there. Someone had slept there, but judging by the indentation in the bed on all parts, it seemed that wasn't the only part that we had used. Oh, my God.

"We had sex," I whisper to myself, and I want to laugh when I say, "Multiple times." Where is he, though? Did he already wake up, and I would have to walk out, doing the walk of shame?

Oh, God, I hoped not. But where else would he be? I feel the ache in my feet when they touch the floor as I walk to pick up my dress. My dress was discarded by the foot of the bed, and when I look for my shoe, I find it in bed. My eyebrows shoot up in question as I try to figure out how that happened. I don't get far, as my memories aren't coming back to me.

I pick up my dress and then shimmy into it. I pull the strap up to my shoulders only to realize that one of them was snapped. Who did that? I pinch the bridge of my nose when I realize how hurried we are to get out of our clothes. My mind had blanked. I placed a hand on the strap, but my dress was going to hold. It was tight all around, so it was basically a tube top.

But then I think about how, when I order an Uber, I would have to walk out with a broken strap on my dress. That wasn't in my interest, so I needed to do something about it. I go to tie it up, but that doesn't work out. I stub my toe in the process at the foot of the bed and curse mentally. This wasn't good for the hangover that I definitely had. As I move toward the floor, I encounter a shirt on the floor.

I pick it up and find that there is a lipstick stain all along the neckline. My eyebrows rose at that, even though I shouldn't be surprised at this point. Sighing, I take the shirt and slip it on. The shirt is as long as my dress, and that makes me snicker. My dress was very short.