She was a ballerina, wound as tight as the corset in her costumes. He was a hockey player determined to make a friend out of someone who didn't want any. She was willing to entertain the idea. But only because he wiggled his way past her defenses to...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I woke up Saturday morning with a hangover and a foul taste in my mouth. I groaned as I sat up and took a moment to decide whether I was going to throw up or brush my teeth. As the wave of nausea passed, I stood up and headed into the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet as I brushed my mouth clear of the bitter taste of alcohol. I shuddered as I thought about the drinks I'd down the night before, cursing Amit and his poor choice to start me off with absinthe. Absinthe. It was a wonder I even remembered half the night.
As I sat, I walked myself through the events of the evening, rolling my eyes when I thought about how I'd done the robot for a small crowd that cheered me on. My brushing slowed to a stop as I worked my way up to when Loren showed up. Oh my god. Oh my god I had kissed Loren. Not just kissed, full on made out. Me. With Loren. Holy hell what had I been thinking? It had amazing and just thinking about it got my heart racing, but what had I been thinking? Loren wasn't interested in me. He'd made that clear. And yet I pursued the matter - while drunk - and pinned it on my attempt to show up Andrea. What had I been thinking? I mean, sure, her face had really made it all that much better, but my drunk ass had thought that there was no better idea than kissing Loren right then and there. I desperately hoped I hadn't ruined the friendship. Again. God, I needed a shock collar or something.
I showered in an attempt to reduce the thudding headache I had, and ate a light breakfast to keep from puking. When I finally felt well enough to start the day, I stared at my phone sitting across the room, scowling. A nagging voice in the back of my head said that I needed to call Loren to apologize (again) for doing something stupid, but I also didn't want to face him.
In a desperate mood, I nearly called Annabel to talk it over, but I knew that that would be asking for trouble, so instead, I chewed on my lip and kept staring at the phone, hoping a simple solution would come to me. When it didn't, I worked up the courage to reach over and grab the phone, forcing myself to handle the situation like an adult.
I yelped when the phone buzzed in my hand, tossing it onto the couch. I paced about the seating area, glancing every so often at the phone. It buzzed again to remind me that I had an unread message. An unread message from a certain great kisser.
Finally, I worked up the courage and retrieved my phone, reading the text.
Want to do lunch? My treat.
I made a face, knowing that I had to respond, and typed out a response.
How about I make us lunch? Less guilt about you always buying me food.
I figured that if we got into a yelling match or one of us (me) started crying, it was better to be in a private place. Less embarrassment that way.
Loren agreed and said he'd be over in an hour, so I made my bed, hid my bills, and started lunch. When there was a knock on the door, my stomach tightened and I washed my hands before heading over to the door, opening it slowly. Loren stood on the other side.
