The Sleep In

My eyelids flutter before I blink them on purpose, clearing the blurriness that coats my pupils like Vaseline. When the sharp lines of reality return, I squint into my spacious white room. I'm still on my stomach on my bed, and still wrapped in my pink towel, albeit haphazardly. My stomach churns aggravated by hunger and the fumes of last night's alcohol.

Last night.

Seth.

A zip of excitement zings through my ribcage as I vividly recall his mouth on mine. I groan and turn my head into my mattress, burying my face in the blankets. I wonder if he'll be at the gym this morning? The excitement in my chest melts into mortification. I can't face him after what happened between us. I can't see him again. Not ever.

Exhaling, I turn my head to glance at the digital clock on my bedside table. 9:00 A.M. I rub my dry lips together, then run my tongue between them, as I blink at the clock. I hum, too bleary-eyed and disoriented to register the incoherent nagging in the back of my mind. I frown.