Blaze

Eight; Blaise

It's well after nine before I even consider rolling out of bed. I would stay in this bed all day if I didn't have the meeting in a couple of hours. I drink the glass of water and down the aspirin that Wyatt left on his bed side table for me.

Wyatt....shit. The memories from last night crash down on me like waves, one after another after another.

The shots.

Puking on his chair.

Stripping in his bed.

I throw an arm over my face and groan. I hit on Wyatt. I made out with Wyatt. I look down and realize I'm nearly naked. Oh my God, Wyatt saw my boobs.

I am mortified, but I know I'll have to face him again eventually, so I grab an old, worn college baseball t-shirt and pair of boxers out of his dresser and pad down the hallway. I can hear him in the kitchen and pray there's coffee.

I follow the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing. His back muscles ripple as he pulls a bowl from the top shelf of the cabinet. He turns around with a box of Fruit Loops in his hand and a goofy, boyish grin on his face, like last night didn't even happen.

"Breakfast?" he asks, shaking the box of crispy sugar and chemicals. 

"No thanks," I say as my stomach rolls, "Coffee?" I ask, hopeful. I take a seat on a stool and lean my elbows on the breakfast bar.

"Sorry, kid. I don't drink coffee, but there's a little coffee shop in Adair, right around the corner from the lawyer's office. We can stop in before the meeting." My heart rate spikes at the memories of the coffee shop yesterday. His eyes on me. His hands on me. I'm lost in thoughts of him when Wyatt's voice pulls me out of my reverie.

"Is that ok?" 

"Um, sure." I respond, trying to act casual. My voice squeaks but Wyatt doesn't seem to notice. I sit at the breakfast bar and he pulls out the stool next to me. This is the first time I've seen him shirtless and, as expected, he's toned and cut in all the right places. I remember that he was the only one dressed when we fooled around last night and feel the blush creeping up my neck. My face is in flames. 

"You okay, kid?" He teases, leaning a shoulder into me. 

"Fine," I mumble. I'd be lying if I said I weren't attracted to Wyatt. A girl would have to be blind not to be. But I'm hungover and mourning and I cannot deal with any more feelings right now.

"Can you please put a shirt on?" I ask, looking down at the counter top.

"Why?" he asks. He drops his spoon and reaches his hands over his head in a stretch. Everything from his shoulders to his pecs to his absurd six pack flexes. He's smirking. He knows what he's doing. "Does this make you uncomfortable? I just figured since I saw you topless, I should return the favor. You know, so it's not so awkward." I'm sure he's smirking at me again, the cocky bastard, but I can't even look at him right now. I blush again.

"What a gentleman."

He laughs, then grows more serious. He grabs a shirt from a pile of clothes on the couch and slips it over his head as he sits next to me. "You know we're going to have to talk about it, right? The elephant in the room?" 

"I know." I sigh, "Okay, I'll go first." I turn toward him and he mimics my movements until we're facing each other. He holds my hands and looks into my eyes. I take a deep breath.

"Your sheets are hideous," I declare, completely humorless. His face cracks into a wide smile before we both start laughing. "Seriously? What's the deal? They look like my grandmother's curtains." It feels good to laugh for a change.