But deep down I wanted to stay this way forever, with her in my arms.
40 kimmy
The headache hit me first.
I woke to the distinct sensation of having made several terrible decisions the night before. According to the digital display of the clock on the nightstand, it was 11:47 AM. The blinds were drawn tight, blocking out any hint of daylight.
I took inventory of myself before doing anything else. Still wearing yesterday's clothes. Tank top, hoodie, jeans, socks, everything accounted for. Relief flooded through me, which meant whatever had happened last night, it had been...what? Consensual? Voluntary? The edges of my memory were frustratingly fuzzy. My logic told me I had nothing to worry about since I was fully dressed. But my gut feeling suggested something else.
There was a bottle of water on the nightstand. Someone had left it there for me. Seven, probably. The thoughtful bastard.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the darkness above me, trying to piece together the events of the previous evening like a puzzle with half the pieces missing.
Okay. Let's see what I actually remember.
I'd gone to Katrina's place to help with the property assessment. Then Seven had driven us back to the city. We'd gone to a diner. Then I had a tasteless sandwich and fruity drinks.
Then...karaoke?
Oh God. I'd dragged him to a karaoke bar. I remembered that part vividly—the terrible song choices, the embarrassing number of drinks I kept consuming, the way he'd looked sitting on that couch like he'd ratherbe literally anywhere else. I'd sung Whitney Houston and Taylor Swift and some other questionable music choices. He'd refused every single offer to join me, which had been hilarious at the time but now felt strange.
And then...
I squinted, trying to focus on the fuzzy edges of the night. We'd left the bar. We were on the street. There was definitely hugging involved. Possibly more than hugging? The thought made my stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with the hangover.
Had I done something inappropriate?
The more I tried to remember, the more the details scattered like startled birds.
I rolled out of bed, then grabbed the water bottle and drained half of it before setting it back down on the nightstand.
I lingered at the door before opening it to step into the living area. Seeing Seven sitting at the kitchen table with a laptop open was jarring. Mostly because he was never around.
He looked up when I appeared, and I immediately felt the awkwardness settle between us like a third person in the room.
"Morning," I said, trying for casual and probably landing somewhere in the neighborhood of guilty. "What time is it?"
"Isn't there a clock in the bedroom?" He shut the laptop.
"Right." I moved to the kitchen and grabbed another bottle of water from the fridge. My hands were steadier than my voice. "So... what exactly happened last night?" I leaned against the kitchen counter and studied whatever I could make out of his profile.
"You left the safehouse without telling me," he said flatly.
"Right. And then?"
"I went to pick you up from your sister's place. We came back."
"That's very specific and also very vague," I muttered. "What about karaoke?"
"What about it?"
"Seven, did I do something embarrassing?"
"Everything's fine."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer you're getting right now." He stood, and there was something in his posture that suggested this conversation was over before it had really begun. "I need you to promise me something."
