The morning after

Maddy's POV

The next day, I woke up with a throbbing pain in my head. Opening my eyes, I found myself in my bedroom with no memory of how I got here.

I remembered the party, and Aston’s piercing cold gray eyes, his scent, the way his hot breath had felt on my skin, his grip on my arm and then walking away from him.

I remembered partying with his sister and her friends all night long, getting drunk. I must have been so wasted because the rest of the night was a blur.

Sudden movements downstairs startled me. Dad.

I stumbled out of the bed, almost collapsing halfway and headed for the bathroom. Seeing my own face in the mirror horrified me.

My makeup was all smudged with mascara running down my cheeks. I splashed water on my face, took some aspirin and returned to the bedroom.

I headed over to the windows and pushed the curtains open. The sunlight streamed in but so did something else.

“Hi, neighbor,” an irritating familiar voice called out.

Aston.

He stood in the window next door waving with a stupid, knowing grin on his face. All the sleepiness wiped from my head.

His room overlooked mine? Nah, it can’t be.

I was only annoyed for a second before my brain recalibrated, distracted by something else. I lowered my eyes, landing on his shirtless body. His giant pecs throbbed on his upper chest.

His abs looked like they had been sculpted on his body. His muscles flexed and rippled every time he moved. He was a fucking god. Handsome or sexy doesn’t even begin to describe him.

He was something else, much darker, much more seductive.

In the morning light, he shone. His dark hair fell across his forehead like waves. He pushed the strands away from his forehead, revealing those compelling, paralyzing eyes.

A gold stud shone from his right ear. Why didn’t I notice it last night?

“Oooh, looks like someone had a rough time last night,” Aston called out.

Our houses were only a couple of inches apart, separated by a small fence and a bed of flowers. I could see clearly into his room: his black-painted room with posters of sportsmen splashed on the wall.

“You’re lucky I was there last night to get you girls home,” he continued.

My ears perked at that. “You brought us home?”

My mind started to race. Did he enter my room or just dropped me off at the door? A lot of crazy thoughts began to spin. If he entered my room, my messy room, did he find my panties lying around the floor? Oh God, my skin flushed.

“Aww, I’m still not hearing any thanks for bringing you home.”

His voice hit some spot deep inside me. Heat built in the depth of my belly. I slammed the curtains shut. Why the hell did his room have to be next to mine?

I ran downstairs and found Dad in the kitchen making pancakes. He was wearing mom’s favorite apron.

“Good morning, honey. Pancakes are almost done!” he said.

I didn’t even acknowledge what he just said. “I need to change my room!”

Dad pecked up, spatula in hand. “Why, honey? You fought for that room. Said it was the best one in the entire house. Natural light, overlooking the garden downstairs and all that.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed.”

Dad’s brows furrowed. “What things?”

I couldn’t think of a single logical lie to tell him. What was I supposed to say? I had to change the room because it was right across from my hot new neighbor? An arrogant jerk I can’t stop thinking about?

“It’s just that…the natural light can be a bit much, you know. Especially from the bed position.”

“Okay, then, I’ll come help you change your bed position.”

“No, no, I just need to find a new room!”

Dad was struck by the urgency in my tone. He stared at me carefully and then shrugged. “Okay then, there are lots of rooms in this house. You can always choose a different one.”

“Thanks Dad.”

I plopped down on the kitchen stool and picked one of the pancakes on the plate. My head was still humming with the music from last night. I groaned loudly.

“Nice party, huh? You came back pretty wasted. Thank God for that Chadwick boy driving you girls home.”

I tensed. Dad met him? I thought he must have dropped me off on the front step.

“He did?” I asked Dad, feigning ignorance.

“Yeah, carried you all the way to your room. He’s a nice one, that boy. I like him. I think you are gonna be good friends with him and his sister,” Dad said without turning from the gas cooker. He had no idea the kind of truth bomb he just dropped on me.

“He carried me to my room?”

“Yeah, up those stairs. He’s a strong boy.”

I didn’t remember any of that. My heartbeat accelerated. Goosebumps washed all over my body just thinking of me in his arms.

“I’m going over there to meet their father this morning. Mr. Chadwick is my new boss. Would you care to join me?” Dad asked.

“Yes!” I screamed out before I could stop myself.

Two hours later, we were knocking on the Chadwick door. A tall man who looked just like the Chadwick siblings answered the door.

“Paul, oh man, come in. I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to welcome you properly. How are you finding the new house?” he said pleasantly.

We stepped into the foyer. The entire house seemed bigger on the inside than it did from the outside. It was tastefully furnished. The family photos and art lined the walls.

Giselle came bounding down the stairs. “I thought I heard your voice. Come on, let the adults talk. Do you wanna see my room? How about that party last night? Wild, right?” she erupted.

She pulled me up the stairs to the bedrooms. She was still talking, gesturing wildly as we climbed the stairs to the second floor where the bedrooms are located.

Halfway, she stopped. “Shit, I forgot to get the ice. I’ll be right back. My room’s down the hall.”

She turned and fled before I could stop her. Alone, I walked on heading for her room.

I had to walk past Aston’s open bedroom to get to hers. My curiosity got the best of me. I stopped at the entrance and glanced in.

It was a typical boy's room. His sneaker collection took up space near the wall. His guitar, signed baseballs, helmets littered everywhere. His shirts were strewn about on the bed, but there was no Aston.

I took a step in. Tentative, afraid that he might be in the bathroom. No one was in there.

I picked up his shirt. It was wet with sweat; his scent overpowered my senses. Without thinking, I put it up to my nose and sniffed it long and hard, filling my lungs with his scent.

“You know, there’s a whole basket of dirty laundry in the corner if you still want to smell me some more,” his voice broke through the silence.

I spun around and there he stood at the entrance, smiling deviously at me.

Shit.