You're My Kind Of Wrong

Chapter Six

Elizabeth

I swear I can feel the Earth's movement this morning. I roll around in bed, trying to eclipse its motions with my own. Rubbing my eyes, I do my best to recollect last night's events; my memory is holed with lack of information, at best.

I do not recognize the bed I'm laying on, nor the sheets wrapped around me; they don't feel familiar on my body. The blackout curtains are drawn; all I can see is a massive sculpture fixed on the wall, an enormous iron cylinder with a crack going straight down the middle. Through it, light shines; it is a beautiful lonely beam in the middle of darkness.

I try to remember where I was yesterday... Oh, Axton. I am at his place, I finally realize. We were talking, eating, drinking and then... I don't know. My thoughts are jumbled and putting the pieces of last night together is out of my capabilities at the moment.

I look around and judge to be safe to leave the bed. Once out, I am shocked by my attire; I am wearing only a white t-shirt and underwear, his white t-shirt, my underwear. I'm not naïve enough to think he slept on the sofa, leaving the bed solely for my use; he is not meek that way. Taking that into consideration, I consider reassuring the fact my undergarments are still in place, intact. Searching around the room for the clothes I originally came with, I open some drawers, look on the armchair, but fail to find them. Baby girl, it looks like you'll have to go outside the bedroom like this. Not thinking twice, I open the door and step outside.

Axton's eyes widen when he lays them on me; he tries to immediately conceal his response to my figure. "Why so early, sunshine?"

I shrug. "Argh, I can't sleep when I'm inebriated, it's a curse really." I decide to ignore the new nickname.

"I don't sleep much when I'm drunk either. By the way, nice shirt. Couldn't find yours?" He taunts, wearing a smug smile.

I lie, "I'm too worn out to be looking for them; besides, I thought it would be rude going through my lovely host's personal belongings." By the looks of him, he is not convinced.

"Also, I like being comfortable for breakfast. At the moment, there's nothing better than your t-shirt." I look up and cross my arms. He is so tall, that even when sitting, he still towers over me. "It's not like you haven't seen this before, anyway." I can't seem to shut up. I blabber when nervous, it's a nasty habit I can't shake.

"Care to elaborate?" He looks at me like I am a mad woman speaking in an alien tongue.

"I mean, you undressed me, and then dressed me again last night, right? See, nothing new to see here," I rant lifting my chin up, and putting on my bravest face to look as self-assured as I can.

Thinking about him undressing me and assessing my body makes me overwrought. There's not a slight chance in carrying on with this conversation.

"You might be forgetting a small detail: just because it's not new, doesn't instantly make it not of interest." He gives me one of his famous once-overs. I should be used to them by now, to his unsettling stare. Yet, it's curious; I feel uncomfortable in my own skin when he does it, but when he doesn't, I can't help but wonder why.

"Wow, how direct. Anyways, do you have food in the house?" I beg, desperate to change the subject. I hope he doesn't hear the distress in my tone. "My head feels like it's about to explode from an aneurysm. Can I have some aspirin or Tylenol? If I die here, you will be held accountable, you know." I try to joke.

He cackles loudly. "I had forgotten you have a flair for the dramatic! The pills are on the counter, along with some coconut water for you; as for the food, feel free to look around for something appealing to you. However, if you are going to cook, I vote for pancakes."

"I guess I could make some. You fed us last night, I can feed us this morning," I say.

"Chocolate chip ones."

"Oh, he demands."

"What can I say? I am a man full of preferences." He charmingly smiles, his dimples in full view.

I actually love making sweets and doughs and have high hopes that it will help me expunge my hangover this morning. I manage to whip up a few pancakes in minutes, all the while Axton sits on the kitchen island, reading a book and sneaking an occasional stare. I don't mind, it's not like it's not reciprocated. As I flip the last pancake, the front door of the apartment flies wide open.

"Ax, are you--" Miss James barges in, but stops in her tracks when she sees me.

I have a clear, straight view of her, thanks to the open floor plan of the apartment. If I see her, she is able to see me as well. Wonderful. Unconsciously, I try to cover as much as I can of my body with the t-shirt, not fully realizing how useless it is since the piece of clothing is somewhat see-through.

"Oh no! I am so sorry... Elizabeth?" recognition hits her as subtly as a sledgehammer.

"Um.. hi." I give her a wave and a forced smile.

I can't believe I have put myself into this situation, I am not sure whether Axton being completely unbothered by it all makes it better or worse. Well, he's not the one in a compromising position, is he?

I am startled by the sound of Axton's voice. "Bri, how many times have I told you?" He walks toward her. "You can't just come in here whenever you want like you own the place. Is there something I can do for you this fine morning?" His tone is loving with an edge of impatience.

"Sorry little bro, I wasn't thinking. I mean, you never have guests, so I saw no harm in... nevermind, not important. I'm going now, catch you later. Nice seeing you, Elizabeth!" She waves without looking and slams the door shut.

I don't know how it's possible for her to be even more shocked than I am by this situation, but somehow, she looked absolutely flabbergasted.

Axton went back to his place on the island without a single word, rested his elbows on grey and white marble and fixed his eyes on me.

I decide to approach the topic first. "Well, that was--"

"Nothing. Don't get all worked up about it. Bri is fine. She has absolutely no boundaries, but she is fine."

"I know she is 'fine' Ax, but she is my professor nonetheless. I'd much rather if she had absolutely no idea what my underwear looked like."

He reveals his dimples. "Why not? They're outstanding."

"Axton!"--I throw my hand up in the air and wave them around nervously-- "C' mon, help me here."

"Hey, hey, it's alright. I was just trying to lighten the mood. I understand what you're saying, and trust me, my sister can be discreet, ok?" He rests his hands on my shoulders and involves me with his deep green eyes, eating me whole. I had never noticed before how much blue they have in them, it's intoxicating.

When I don't say anything, he does, "Do you think you can forget about that and stay a while longer? Don't go yet, please. Let's have breakfast, some hot girl made pancakes." He brushes his thumbs over my frowning eyebrows, making me relax on cue.

I truly appreciate he's trying to make me feel better. Wait, did he just call me hot? I hear his heartfelt plea. "Ok, ok."

We set the table for breakfast, I organize the pancakes into beautiful piles topped with extra chips and whipped cream, while Axton gets the plates, cups, and napkins. We talk some more, and my memory comes back bit by bit. We talk about last night, and how we were sure we would ace the game and none of us did. We laugh about how hard we had stereotyped the other. For the first time, we thoroughly enjoy each other's company, and I can feel both of our walls crumbling.