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TEN
OCTAVIA
When did my bed get so comfy? Why does my pillow smell so good?
I peel my eyes open, expecting to see the light pouring in through my sheer curtains, only to find nothing but darkness. Either I changed my cheap curtains out for blackouts when I was drunk or this isn't my room.
It all comes rushing back in a head pounding wave. Oakley! That's the smell. Also, bacon? I can definitely smell bacon. I frantically lift the blankets. A sigh of relief escapes my lips when I see the shirt I am wearing. That would have been awkward. Looking around the room, Oakley is nowhere to be found.
I prepare myself for the cold that will hit me as soon as I leave the bed’s warmth and run to the door that I can only hope leads to a bathroom.
After stumbling the entire way, I finally make it into what thankfully turns out to be a bathroom and not a secret sex dungeon. I find a spare toothbrush sitting by the sink, courtesy of Oakley, I'm guessing.
I guess I should try to make myself look like something other than a raccoon that just crawled out of a garbage can. With the hair tie on my wrist, I sweep my knotted hair into a messy bun on the top of my head and manage to wash away the remnants of eyeliner and mascara around my eyes with cold water.
I look down at my outfit and sigh. I can either put on my clothes from last night, or I can keep wearing his shirt. It's not like it isn't long enough, the damn thing goes down to my knees. Okay, shirt it is.
I close my hand around the cold, brassy knob—and pause. I can hear Oakley talking to someone through the door.
"Thanks, Mom. I know you guys would have been here if you could. I love you too."
Now, I know you shouldn't eavesdrop, but I can't help it! He's a mama's boy. That's adorable.
I wait until he hangs up to open the door. I walk out into the main room, and my mouth falls open.
Oakley is wearing nothing but a pair of baggy grey sweatpants, standing in front of the oven making breakfast.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus. I can't see what he's doing from where I'm standing. All I can see are his incredibly defined back muscles flexing with every move he makes. A large tattoo on the back of his neck catches my eye. It intrigues me with its intense designs as it continues across his broad shoulders, expanding until it reaches the middle of his back. I'll have to ask him about it later.
"Good morning."
Oakley jumps and swears under his breath in surprise. I laugh as he turns to face me.
His face lights up. "Morning, beautiful. Coffee?"
"Yes, please. Black. Also, do I smell bacon?"
He hands me a red mug, a similar shade to his cheeks. I'm getting the impression he doesn't usually make girls breakfast. Great, there are those damn butterflies again.
"Yeah, figured you were going to be hungry. Bacon is one of the best hangover foods. From what I hear, at least.”
I walk over and wrap my arms around his waist and place a kiss on his tattoo. "Thank you."
Woah, when did I become so bold?
I feel him shudder and hear the sharp intake of breath he takes as he pours his coffee. "Uh, yeah. Of course."
It's good to know that I affect him when I'm sober too.
Unfortunately, I remember everything that happened last night. I wish I had forgotten some things to avoid the inevitable embarrassment I know I'm no doubt going to feel. I feel my face getting warm just thinking about my little ass shake stunt last night.
I pull my hands from around his waist and quickly move towards his kitchen table. Before I sit down, I notice him staring oddly at me. Great, I probably still have black smudges around my eyes or something.
"Do I have something on my face?" I rub under my eyes in hopes of getting rid of whatever's there.
"No, you just look good in my clothes," he winks and turns back around to get our breakfast.
"Oh." I stare down at my feet as the heat comes rushing to my cheeks.
