AllFreeNovel
Share Us
In his bed.
And completely naked.
There are two ways to handle this situation—sneak out or awkwardly spend the morning together. I decide to opt for the former.
Slowly, I slink out from underneath the weight of Foster’s arm, and with absolutely no grace or coordination, I thump onto the floor.
Ridiculous hangover. No body control.
My head pounds madly like a heavy metronome when I turn it from side to side, searching for my garments. One might think to prepare for a mistaken sexual encounter by laying out their clothes the night before, so they could make an easy getaway. Apparently, I’m an amateur in this department of crazy one-nighters.
For better or for worse, this is my first experience with a situation like this. Most of my nights with men are usually the result of a natural progression during a date. This is new territory for me, and now, I resemble the foolish girl on one of those romantic comedy movies. If I’m lucky, I’ll stub my toe on the way out to complete the one-night-stand cliché.
Spotting my panties and pants, I slowly crawl across the floor and begin to dress, trying to keep as quiet as possible. As I’m zipping up my jeans, Foster stirs under the covers, rotating his head on the pillow. I pause, waiting to see if he’s waking up. I examine his features, which appear so much softer while he slumbers.
Watching him lying there without saying a word, I try to wrap my mind around how or why we slept together last night. Sure, he’s got that sexy-when-naked thing going, but he’s definitely not like anyone I’ve ever been with before.
However, for some odd reason, I was all about jumping his bones last night.
Can a girl just blame it on alcohol and call it a day?
But that’s not reality or fair. I was making conscious decisions.
Trying not to overanalyze it, I finish zipping and fastening my pants and then creep back toward the bed, hoping to find my bra and shirt. Scanning all around, I spy my top at the corner of the mattress, and my bra is wrapped around Foster’s leg.
What are the odds?
“Hey?” Foster grumbles, rubbing his palm across his jaw and righting himself in the bed.
I sit back on my heels and cover my chest, feeling utterly exposed in the daylight. “Hey. Um…I need to get going. I, um…I have to get to the studio.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He rubs his forehead. “Okay.”
Based on his lack of vocabulary, he’s not in tip-top shape this morning either.
I pull my bra away from his legs, gather my shirt, and walk toward the other side of the room. Turning my back to him in order to have some privacy, I hastily put on my bra and pull my shirt over my head, stretching the hem downward to cover my hips. I turn back around to say good-bye.
Foster has extracted himself from bed, already put on his boxers, and is now slipping into his pants. I hate to admit it, but a topless Foster is pretty easy on the eyes, but I avert mine so not to ogle. This is awkward enough.
“Well…” I say, my voice thick with lingering alcohol. “I’m gonna get going.”
Foster adjusts the shirt over his torso and then reaches for his glasses on a nearby side table. “Let me drive you home.”
“No, that’s okay. I can walk.”
“Just let me take you.” He picks up a set of keys from the bureau.
“Nah, I’m good. I always walk in the mornings anyhow,” I lie through my teeth.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I exit out of his room, not allowing the conversation to continue.
Foster silently escorts me down the length of the apartment, passing another bedroom on the left. I find my shoes, purse, and jacket along the way.
I barely remember anything about this place. I don’t know if I was completely hammered or just really focused on getting laid.
Opening the door, I step out into the building’s hallway. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Yeah.” He leans in and kisses me on the cheek, sending a tingle through every nerve in my body. This must be part of the one-night-stand formality. “See you Monday.”
I nod my head and then descend the stairs. When I reach the first floor of the building, I open the door and follow the path from the courtyard to the sidewalk. I hook a left to find a street sign. At the corner, I take comfort in recognizing the name of the street, knowing that I have to tread only about five or six blocks before I’m home.
With my arms wrapped around my waist, I bank a right and head up the hill toward my neighborhood, pondering the entire time whether my actions last night were a mistake, a rite of passage, or something else altogether.
Foster and I are friends, colleagues, and different in so many ways. I wonder if last night has changed all of that and what we will be once Monday comes.
