The Blonde Cheerleader

Chapter Ten: Little Hiccup

Waking up, I expected myself to be still passed out at the floor of that party host's living room, ready to eat whatever crappy breakfast he can offer.

To my complete surprise, I opened my eyes to the sight of the familiar ceilings where you could see the faint shapes of where the glow-in-the-dark stickers used to be. I closed my eyes and opened them again as if it would be completely different.

Sitting up, I stopped myself when I felt the sharp pain in my head. After a full minute of not moving, I slowly turned to me side and blinked at Gray's sleeping figure.

What? Why? When? How?

Throwing the covers off of my body, I noticed that I was still fully clothed – an indicator that I was left untouched and we didn't do anything.

Well, at least I hope not.

But I trust Gray, he won't do anything.

Standing up was another problem, my head was still feel painful as hell. I was like a toddler learning how to walk again as I took each step as slowly as I can in order to reduce this pulsating headache. Great, now how can I perform tonight with this?

Okay, maybe I should have stuck to the beer.

All I know right now is that I need to pee and I need some water.

After doing my business in the bathroom, I held back a shriek when I glanced at the mirror. My makeup was absolutely destroyed and my hair stuck out in all directions. Using my hands as a comb, I attempted to neaten it up, but it decided to be stubborn.

Taking out a handkerchief from my pocket, I used it as a hair tie and pulled my hair into a ponytail. Opening his medicine cabinet, I reached out for the bottle of asprin before heading down to the kitchen to get myself a drink.

I've had enough hangovers in here to know where the painkillers are.

Pouring myself a glass of water, I took a look at his fridge to see what I can make for breakfast. There's not really much to choose from so I opted for some scrambled eggs.

Setting the bottle of aspirin down on the counter, I took out the egg carton and a bowl from the cabinet in order to prepare breakfast. Gray's not some stranger that I need to sneak off after a night together and pray that we never talk again.

As I've always said, we're friends – even though the recent happenings is currently putting a riff in that title.

Whisking the eggs, I placed the pan on the stove, spraying it with cooking spray, before pouring all the contents of the bowl into it. While cooking, I could hear Gray entering the kitchen and I didn't even dare to turn to look at him.

He was silent, probably weighing his options on whether he should say something or let me do the talking.

Finishing up, I divided the eggs into two plates and setting them down on the kitchen island in front of him. He stared at me and I only kept my monotone expression, choosing to make him do the first move as I rounded up the counter and sat on the stool with my glass of water.

I heard him take a deep breath before calling out my name, "Clara..."

Here we go, the dreaded conversation is about to start.

"Before anything else," I said, turning to face him, "Did we or did we not do it last night?"

To my relief, he shook his head as his answer, "You passed out and I carried you here because I'm sure your parents wouldn't appreciate you coming home drunk in a guy's arms."