Forgetting Prince Charming.

CHAPTER 2

The room spun and a particularly wretched smell permeated the air. Emma opened her eyes and blinked in rapid succession. The spinning seized but full consciousness had yet to arrive. She sniffed and the same, stale smell filled her nostrils. She rubbed her eyes to remove any remaining sleep and froze. Oh, dear.

She lowered her head and sniffed.

Yip, just as she'd thought. She was the wretched smelling thing. Just great. She looked around slowly and stiffened. Her lack of personal hygiene was the last thing on her mind. She didn't know where she was.

"Good morning," greeted a deep voice from her left. Emma's head shot around. She reached forward and gripped the duvet, covering her up to her neck. She was dressed, she could feel that much but, the knowledge did nothing to appease her anxiety. A man, bald and sparingly muscled stood in the doorway of the room. He was dressed plainly in dark work-pants with a tight green shirt. He stood, leaned against the doorway with a coffee cup in his hand. Emma licked her lips. She could almost feel the magical bitterness of the coffee on her tongue instead of the sliminess she'd woken up with.

"Who are you?" she croaked. She looked around and noticed the semi-darkness of early morning through the window. "Where am I and what happened last night?"

The man chuckled as he shifted his weight to his right foot. "You called me many names last night, not sure which one you'd prefer."

"What?" 

His head dipped though Emma could see his lips curl into a smirk. She glared. She wasn't up for jokes so early in the morning- not with her hangover making its presence known. He moved towards her and sat at the foot of the bed and stretched the coffee cup towards her. Emma watched him warily. "Here, drink this. I'm not sure how you like your coffee but I believe black is the best for a hangover."

She agreed and reached greedily for the cup. The first scolding sip slipped over her tongue and she slouched with a sigh. It burned down her throat and warmed her body. Her head cleared almost instantly. "How much of last night do you remember?" he asked. He sat with his elbows resting on his knees and his head turned towards her. His face gave nothing away to what he thought.

"I remember sitting at Billy's alone. I was feeling down, contemplating my life when -"

"Why were you feeling down?" he interrupted.

She shrugged. She was not going to get into that with a stranger. "Just because." He looked at her dubiously but didn't push for more. "I remember you approached me with a really bad line," she said with a laugh.

He scoffed, pulling back. "It wasn't a bad line."

"Oh yes, it was."

"It worked didn't it?" he countered.

"Only because you plied me with alcohol. It had nothing to do with your line."

"Are you saying I have no skills with women?"

She smirked. "If the shoe fits."

He face changed ungraciously and Emma chuckled. A man like him probably felt he was a gift to all women. Men like that irked her. If she could tip the scales of balance a bit- punch his ego - she would take the chance. The fact that it was a lie was something she'd keep to herself.

"Whatever," he scoffed. "I'll have you know that I've scored plenty of women with that line."

She quirked her brow. "Oh really? You want me to believe that others have fallen for the line, 'my friend wants your number so he can know where I'll be spending the night?'"

He lips stretched wide. "You found it charming last night."

She stiffened. "Well, I was intoxicated so it doesn't count." His eyes gleamed as he prepared to gloat. She jumped to change the topic. "What happened last night?"