I groan, rolling over to the cold side of my bed. I press my fingers against the bridge of my nose, willing the headache pounding behind my eyes to stop. I gently pull the quilt away from my body and my nipples stand to attention when the cool air hits them.
A glass of water and two painkillers are sitting in the center of my bedside table.
Well, I didn’t put them there. After a few drinks, Drunk Maddie wouldn’t give a shit about Sober Maddie’s hangover the next morning.
Grayson.
He’s seen my boobs twice now. I slap the palm of my hand against my forehead in annoyance, which only makes me wince. The air seems to turn into a furnace as I sit, naked and wanting to die of embarrassment. Fuck, if he tells Keller, I’m never going to hear the end of this from Sienna.
He wouldn’t, would he?
I snatch the tablets from the nightstand and swig them back with some of the water. I moan in appreciation as the cool liquid soothes my dry throat. But it’s not quite the coffee my body so desperately craves right now. With a huff, I push myself off the bed and slip on the black oversized hoodie that’s been thrown in a heap on my dressing table and pad out to the kitchen.
Since Sienna moved out, it’s far too quiet here. Not that I need a roommate, but I wouldn’t mind the company. I like to be distracted from life, from feeling lonely.
As I round the corner to the kitchen, I pause, shocked. Holy shit, did he clean? My counters are sparkling. The coffee machine is ready with a fresh mug that has a happy face on it. Way too cheery for me right now.
I mean, I should probably thank him. He took my drunk ass home, put me to bed and apparently tidied my apartment in the middle of the night. I place the cup under the machine. It buzzes to life and the black liquid fills the cup. God, I can’t wait for this. Fetching my cell phone out of my silver purse from the barstool, I check my notifications.
Twenty-five new matches on my dating profile. Maybe Mr. Right is one of these. I scroll through the onslaught of profiles, swiping along their pictures.
After a while, I sigh and shut down the app. I’m too tired and hungover to deal with this today, as if the hangxiety isn’t enough with stripping in front of Grayson, again. I cannot handle stewing on the fact that I can’t find ‘the one.’
My phone pings with a message, and my heart rate picks up when I read its contents.
Grayson: Morning, Sunshine. How’s the head? Your earrings are in my car.
Now I remember why the man riles me up. He acts like a god’s gift to women. He sleeps with anyone but me. Not that I want to sleep with him. Although, the rejection does kind of hurt.
Not my earrings, Asshole.
His reply is instant.
Grayson: Oops.
Is he serious?
As I go to put the phone away, another text pops up.
Grayson: JOKING. Don’t worry 😉
I shake my head when I realize I’m smiling like a teenager with a crush at my phone. He’s not a good man, Maddie.
Who you are with is not my concern. After all, you run away after a kiss anyway.
Sienna should have never told me about his no-kissing rule. I can imagine his face all scrunched up as he’d try to come up with something to hit a nerve with. It’s almost become a normal part of life now. Winding each other up, until one of us is pissed off enough to stop.
Grayson: I haven’t had any complaints about what I can do with my mouth.
Me neither.
Is the heating on or am I about to combust? I need to shut this down. Now. This text exchange alone proves he’s a walking red flag, one I need to cross right off my list. If I’m going to find myself a man, prove to my parents I am respectable, I need to stop engaging with this idiot. He distracts me. That kiss distracts me. Then I can relax, I can be happy.
At least I don’t have to see him for a while now. With that, I make my way to the shower and turn on the hot water.
Just as I slip out of my clothes, my phone pings again. I pop out of the bathroom to go and see.
Grayson: See you next weekend, Sunshine.
For fuck’s sake! I throw my head back, just as another text pops up. Christ, can’t people leave me alone in my delicate state.
Mom: We’ve booked a table at La Brasserie, Friday, 12th Feb. You can bring a date, seeing as it is near Valentine’s. I expect you must have someone by now?
I groan out loud at her text. Can’t she give me some slack? She’s obsessed. I don’t even have the energy to text her back. I can’t handle the next lecture I’m about to get on being single and how my body’s clock is ticking for children.
That discussion is for another day.
I chuck my phone on the bed and head off to the shower.
