I flipped over to my other side only to see Blaze sleeping soundly on the pillow right next to me.
“Fucking shit,” I whispered. “Shit, shit, shit.”
I had no recollection of the night before. I didn’t remember inviting him in. The last thing I remembered was downing my second gin and tonic and making out with him. I hated myself in that moment for letting it go any farther. In my sober mind, I knew I was a big fucking idiot.
I clenched my legs together to see if there was any soreness below. To my surprise, I felt totally fine. I was almost positive we would’ve had sex had I brought him home, but I didn’t feel like I had.
Maybe I passed out before it could happen? Or maybe it happened but he was gentle and tender with me, like he was with his kisses?
Part of me wondered if I was drugged at all. I found it a little alarming that two drinks could get me that far gone, but then again I was drinking on an empty stomach. I’m not a huge drinker or a huge person, so it didn’t really take much to get me two sheets to the wind.
My mind raced as a million different thoughts flooded through me. I looked over at him. He was still sleeping peacefully, like a little baby.
As crazy as it seemed, it almost felt good to have someone lying in bed with me. My bed had been empty for so long I’d almost forgotten what it was like. It had been over a year since Jeremy and I had broken up, and I hadn’t had a single guy over since.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say that a small part of me hoped that Blaze was truly sincere about his apology, that he was being honest, and that he wasn’t a psychotic person who tracked me down like a crazy ex-lover.
I took a deep breath and cleared my throat, hoping to wake him, but he was still solidly asleep. I crawled out of bed and tiptoed to my bathroom to freshen up. When I was done, I peeked back into my bedroom, but he was still buried under a mountain of covers. I happened to look down on the floor by his side of the bed to see his jeans and jacket and even his boxers piled into a heap on the floor. He was totally sleeping naked in my bed.
Somehow I was wearing a nightie. He must have dressed me. How cute and not like him. Maybe he really was different that I thought?
I didn’t want to wake him, but I didn’t want to leave him sleeping in my bed for God knows how long.
“Blaze?” I called out softly from the doorway.
“Mmm,” he moaned. He was like a teenager who didn’t want to be woken up.
“Blaze,” I called out one more time.
I saw him rustle and stir a bit before pulling the covers up over his head. I figured I’d just leave him be for the time.
I made my way downstairs, poured myself a bowl of cold cereal, fed the cat, and flipped on the morning network news. I crunched away on my cereal, all the while wondering when the hell he was going to get up. I purposely clinked the spoon on the ceramic bowl and loudly threw it in the sink when I was done. I turned the volume up on the T.V. as well. I wanted to be loud. I wanted him to wake up. I didn’t want him to feel like he could sleep all day in my bed or that we were any sort of couple.
I cringed when I thought about what I probably said in my drunken stupor the night before. I hoped I didn’t promise him anything or give him false hope, but at that point, I’d never know.
It wasn’t long before he came trudging down the stairs in nothing but his red, plaid boxers. His abs rippled with every step and his biceps flexed as he hung onto the wood railing. His hair was messy and sticking up every which way, but admittedly he looked like a hot, sexy piece of ass.
“Hi,” I said as I watched him rub his eyes.
“Hey,” he grunted in his manly-man voice. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, flung his arms above his head and stretched for several seconds while he let out a huge sigh.
I wanted to ask him so badly what happened the night before, but I didn’t want him to know for two seconds that I was out of it. I didn’t want him to know that two drinks was all it took to get me to black out an entire night of events. That kind of information would be dangerous in the hands of the wrong person, and as much as I didn’t want to think Blaze was a bad person, the truth was I just didn’t know yet.
“Do you have any food?” he asked as he patted his stomach.
“Yeah,” I said. “Mostly cereal. Help yourself.”
He shuffled his feet to the kitchen where I heard him opening and closing cabinets, pulling milk from the refrigerator and grabbing dishes. He emerged from the kitchen a short while later with a bowl of cold cereal in his giant hands. He made the bowl look tiny as he palmed the underside of it and chomped away at the crunchy, colorful pebbles in the bowl.
I had to admit he looked pretty cute eating that fruity, kids cereal. It almost made him seem a little less scary and a little more normal.