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“Did you just call me ‘Ma’!? And spontaneously develop a New York accent?” she asked, her voice scratchy and hoarse. Parker was silent for a moment before coughing and slowly uncurling.
“Not really spontaneous.DidI call you Ma?” he asked slowly, his voice equally hoarse. Paige snickered.
“You did. God, I feel like shit,” she told him, stretching her arms above her head. Parker nodded as he rolled over onto his back. His feet stuck out over the end of the bed and she almost started laughing again.
“You said it, sister. Am I still wearing my shoes!?” he exclaimed, sticking his feet up a little.
“Uh, yeah. What time is it?” she grumbled, looking around the small room. Parker shrugged, toeing his shoes off.
“Whatever time it is, it's too early. I am so hung -” he cut himself off by suddenly bursting out laughing. Startled, Paige looked back at him.
“What? What!? What are you doing!?” she exclaimed. He was pointing at her, laughing his head off.
“Your ... your ... your head,” he tried to breathe.
Paige lifted her hands back up to her head. She had fallen asleep with her hair up in a ponytail – it had gotten shoved around to the side, and then she'd slept on it. It was one big rats nest, completely teased out and puffed up on the one side, the shorter layers in the front standing almost completely upright off her forehead. A tentative feel of her cheeks confirmed that mascara was also smeared down under her eye on the same side and sleep lines were all over one side of her face.
“Oh shut up,” she grumbled, throwing the blankets back to get up. She stared down at her lap. “What the hell am I wearing?” Parker lifted his head again, looking over at her.
“Um, I think those would be my gym shorts,” he slowly replied, “and, um, what looks to be a ... a sports bra?”
Paige stared at herself and pressed one hand to her stomach, the other to her chest, feeling the bare skin. She glanced over at him but he had laid his head back down, his eyes closed. She was surprised he'd reacted so dramatically to her messy, scary hair, but hadn’t seemed to notice her state of almost-undress. She frowned a little. Sure, it was a plain black sports bra, but she had big boobs, a flat stomach. He could've looked a little ... she suddenly snorted, realizing the thoughts she was having.
Ridiculous.
“What did we get into last night?” she asked slowly. He smiled and cracked an eye open.
“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” he laid the New York accent on thick. She snorted again and scooted to the edge of the bed.
“Shut up. I barely remember coming here. Where are we? Like a Motel Six? How did I wind up in your gym shorts – and why are you completely dressed? Oh god, I better be wearing my own underwear,” she said quickly, lifting the waistband of the shiny blue gym shorts. She let out a sigh of relief. It was one thing for Parker to see her in a sports bra, it was quite another if he had seen her in all her glory.
“Still good?” he asked, sitting up. Paige nodded and stood, stretching her back while keeping a death grip on the waistband of the too-big shorts.
“Still underwear-ed,” she replied, shambling into the bathroom. She blinked in surprise at her reflection and then sighed. It would be a miracle if he ever looked at her again. She quickly turned around and spotted her purse – where she'd apparently thrown it against a wall the night before. She groaned as she shuffled over to it and grabbed it, dragging it into the bathroom behind her and slamming the door shut.
More of the night was coming back to her. It wasn’t so much that she couldn’t remember, but the images were blurry and the audio on her memories seemed to cut in and out. She clearly remembered leaving the dive bar and heading to another bar. She could remember having a really good time with Parker there, even attempting to join in during a line dance. Parker had done well – she had not. They had gone to a liquor store after that and then hung out in a playground, Paige attempting to impress him with her mad rapping skills while he tried to beatbox. Neither did very well at either, though they were both impressed with their skills in polishing off a pint of Jack Daniels.
Jack Daniels.
She shuddered.
Parker had been better at acting sober than she, so he'd booked the room at the Motel Six. She could remember stumbling into the room and flinging her purse at the wall, almost falling over. She could remember sitting at the tiny two person table and downing beers with Parker, laughing at ... something. She still couldn’t remember exactly what they'd talked about – oh god, had she blabbed about how hot she thought he was? How often she fantasized about undressing him with her teeth – and how that was one of her cleaner fantasies? She worried her lip and glanced at the bathroom door. Oh well. She turned on the shower and stripped off her clothing, hanging a towel at the ready on the sliding shower door before hopping in the tub.
The hot water felt like heaven to her alcohol soaked brain. She was tempted to lay down in the bottom of the tub, but figured falling asleep was a bad idea. Not to mention, Parker might want to take a shower as well sometime this century. She rubbed the back of her neck and groaned out loud before grabbing at the complimentary soaps.
“Hey hey hey, what’s goin’ on in here!?” Parker suddenly shouted, his voice far too close for comfort. Paige squealed, holding the washcloth against her body like it could hide something.
“What are you doing!?” she hissed, glad she'd hung her towel up on the door. She pressed against that part, wondering how well he'd been able to see through the frosted panels of glass. Apparently boundaries didn't exist in Parker-world.
“I was gonna knock to see if I could come in here to get some water, but then I heard groaning and thought maybe we needed to have a talk about appropriate shared hotel room behavior,” he told her, making his voice comically deep.
“Piss off and get out of my shower,” she replied with a laugh.
“Babe, I am not inyourshower, I am inmybathroom – I paid for all this land you see before you, and I am getting a glass of water.”
“Well excuse me, my lord, please do not let my nudity and embarrassment stand in your way! By all means, get your water,” she grumbled, a shiver running over her body. Her position of concealment was mostly outside the spray from the shower head, the water barely hitting her shins.
“That’s what I like to hear!” he shouted.
