Not Just Acting (Negovanman)

Chapter 3

I wake up with a headache, and a nauseous feeling in my stomach. As I sit up, the nausea begins to grow, and I realize what's coming next.

I shoot up from my bed and rush to my bathroom. I drop to my knees in front of the toilet as I reluctantly let the burning feeling make its way up my throat and into the toilet. That lasts for about a minute before I'm able to get up again and wash my mouth out with water from the sink. I decide that's not enough and brush my teeth too. The taste is too revolting to not wash away with minty toothpaste. I tie my hair up in the messiest way possible and remember parts of what happened last night.

I go back to the bedroom and Natasha isn't laying in my bed. Was I imagining that? That was the best part that happened too. I let out a groan and stumble into the kitchen, rubbing my tired eyes roughly. I should just go back to bed for another four hours... or more.

"Morning," an amused voice says from the direction in front of me.

I drop my hands to my sides after jumping from fright to see Natasha standing in the kitchen with two mugs in her hands. I take in how cute she looks with messy hair and tired smirk. If she still looks like a goddess after sleeping with her make up on and somehow managing to not smear it, then I must look like a complete mess--or rather a hideous troll.

"Hey," I mumble in a rough, morning voice. "You stayed." And the award for pointing out the most obvious thing like an idiot goes to me.

"Yeah, I thought I'd make you breakfast." She walks up to me and holds out of one the mugs. "This is for you."

I grab it and let the smell of hot chocolate fill my senses. It smells so good. I lean down to take a drink but hot steam hits my face. I straighten back up, not wanting to burn my tongue off.

"Thank you, Natasha." I give her a grateful smile.

"No problem." She gestures to the table in the middle of my small kitchen. "The French toast will be done soon so you can just relax until then."

"French toast?" My mouth starts to water.

I haven't had French toast for a very long time, and I remember it being my favorite as a kid. Or was it my least favorite? I can't remember.

"Yeah. I don't know your favorite kind of breakfast food, but I figured no one can hate a specific breakfast food so I just went with what I can cook best." Natasha smiles back at me as she hovers over the oven.

"You are so awesome," I say with a smirk.

"So I've heard." She casts a wink back at me, causing me to blush.

Does that mean I said that while drunk? I wonder what else I said. Either way, I'm not going to live that down and she'll forever make fun of me. Hell, I'd make fun of me for my actions last night after almost running off with that guy when I am very much gay. God, I'm an idiot. What would have happened if she wasn't there? Would I have eventually walked away myself? I sure as hell would like to think I would have.

"How's your head feeling?" Natasha leans back on the counter to look at me. There's curiosity in her eyes that sparkle, unless that's just how her eyes usually are.

"Oh, just great," I say sarcastically with a smile.

I feel like sleeping longer would be the curse. Hopefully then my hangover would be gone, and I could be productive with my day again. I don't need to be productive though. I'd gladly watch Netflix all day without a hangover also.

"You'll feel better after eating," Natasha explains.

She takes out two plates from the cupboard after peeking through a few. She sets them neatly on the dining table and grins happily at the display.