FIFTEEN
Mazagran
Celeste
“I’m awake!”I gasp from a very deep slumber, my body lurching upright off…wait, where the hell am I?I quickly take in my surroundings and feel the softest velvet under my fingers, a cozy blanket thrown over my lower body, and the subtle aroma of coffee awakening the fogginess of my brain.
Right, Dominic’s apartment. Tattoo. Shower. Jaws. Sleep. Oh, God.
“Morning, Hoot.” I hear Dominic’s low and scratchy sleep voice come from his kitchen area. He’s leaning against the island, taking a swig of coffee from a chunky mug. For a brief moment I let the richness of his voice settle over my skin like the morning sun and I want to stretch like a cat to loosen my stiff muscles from sleeping on Dominic’s?—
“Oh, fuck. Did I sleep here all night? Oh my God, I have to—” I start, rustling out of the blanket to get my body vertical.
“I texted Delaney for you. I figured if she knew then she could always tell…anyone else who needs to know. You talk in your sleep by the way,” he says casually as if that isn’t the cutest thing ever. The texting that is, not so much the attentiveness to my sleep habits.
“I do not,” I retort.
“You also farted.”
“I did not!” My mouth hangs open in objection but my shoulders shake in silent laughter. “That’s not fair! Unconscious farting should be completely untalked about, mums the word, silent…” I feel my cheeks heat in embarrassment.
“But deadly?” he offers, with the most feline smirk I’ve ever seen. Sometimes I think it’s his mission to make me feel discombobulated.
“I’m so done with this conversation. Give me your coffee. You don’t deserve it.” I march toward him, scrubbing my hands over my face and feeling just exactly how ruffled my hair is and what are clearly couch lines embedded on my cheek. I wince slightly at the ache of my shoulder.
“To be fair I gave you the couch, which is a thousand times comfier than my bed,” he says. I feel my cheeks flush a shade of crimson at the thought of his bedroom, at the memory of us sitting together snuggled up on the couch last night. The evening rewinds through my brain in rapid succession leading me right to the moment where I groggily kissed Dominic.
Oh my God, I kissed Dominic.I try not to spiral.
As a friend.As a thank you,to a…friend?
Play it off, Celeste. He was there for you and you felt extra special. Meant nothing.
He probably forgot, so pretend you did too.
I huff, raise my chin a little in feigned confidence and snatch his coffee out of his grasp. He lets me, our fingers overlapping around the cup for a singular moment before I pull the mug away. I place the cup down momentarily to hop up and sit atop the island.
Higher ground, Celeste, well played.
“Please tell me you have some sort of sweetener to add to this bitter stew,” I chide, gently swaying my bare legs over the island. Dominic turns to the back counter across from where I sit, a small smile playing on his full mouth.
The mouth I kissed last ni?—
“Here.” He abruptly hands me a cup of my own coffee, clearly lighter in colour from some sort of creamer added to it, “Looks like chalk and tastes like a candy bar, just how you like it.” His face contorts in genuine disgust.
I take a tentative sip and raise my eyebrows at him. “Colour me impressed, Peggy. Although I could do without your coffee snob judgement so early in the day.” I greedily gulp down a few more sips while gently swinging my legs again. The cold countertop sends goosebumps over my bare legs and I shiver in response. I catch Dominic’s gaze over the rim of my mug waiting for his typical witty retort, only his eyes are not meeting mine. His focus is unwavering on my bare legs. I see a flash of something pass his eyes before he looks up to me, clears his throat, and turns away towards the fridge. I swear it was lust that flashed through his eyes just then, but I must be mistaken. Heat grows in my belly then sinks a little further between my thighs and thank God he’s turned away because I squeeze them together on reflex.
Why am I so fucking horny? It must be the new environment. Bachelor pad vibes.
I hop off the counter and sip from my mug as I amble aimlessly around Dominic’s apartment. For some reason I wantto go through all his things, find hidden treasures, dig up the skeletons he has in his closet.
Hopefully not real ones, put down the stalker romance novels Celeste.
I go to the shelves of books he has on either side of his TV. He has every genre possible, from Shakespeare to…
“Oh my God, is this a stalker romance novel?” I gawk, pulling out the book with the blue skull on it, and run it over to the kitchen to show Dominic even though he clearly knows the contents of his own library. He looks over his shoulder, taking the attention away from his scrambled eggs, and nods indifferently.
I blink, “I’m sorry, did you just casually dismiss this dark romance?”
