What the hell was wrong with me?
Just as slumped back onto the bed, I heard Brandon coming back down the hallway.
His eyes were downcast while he stretched his hand out to me, a glass held in one and a fist full of something in the other. When I opened my palm up toward him, he quickly slapped a few tablets of meds on it and then all but shoved the glass of water at me.
“For your hangover,” he said, refusing to even glance in my direction.
Oh, I’d royally fucked up.
Popping the pills quickly and downing the entire glass all in one go, I carefully handed it back to him, saying, “Thank you.”
“Yeah, no worries.”
There was a heavy pause that fell over us, enough to make my body want to twitch as the anxious feeling inside of my stomach was twisting it into knots tight enough to make me feel nauseous.
There was no doubt about it, he was definitely freaked out.
And why wouldn’t he be?
It wasn’t like it was an every day thing to wake up to your straight, former best friend humping you like a fucking dog inheat. No matter what delicious sounds were coming out of your mouth because of it.
Jesus fuck.
‘Delicious’?
I needed my head checked.
Sighing, I said, “Brandon?—”
“I should probably shower.” His words instantly had my mouth snapping shut. “Got to work soon.”
Swallowing the bitterness on my tongue, I forced myself to stand. “Yeah. Of course. I’ve got a rideshare coming already.”
He only nodded and quickly stepped out of my way. When we finally made eye contact, his face flushed a dark rosy color and he turned away once more.
“Have a good morning,” he mumbled.
The second I was out the door and had it firmly shut behind me, I fought the urge to look up at the sky and curse at it.
Fuck my life.
CHAPTER 11
Brandon
The paperworkin front of me was a complete blur as I stared down at it. The words jumbled into an unreadable ménage of nonsense that made less sense the longer I looked at it.
I’d been at this for hours now, with the pen pressed to the same damn line that I’d re-read probably a hundred times. My mind was elsewhere. Far, far away from my shop where I was tucked inside of my tiny little office pretending like this morning never happened.
The memories were like a punch to the gut, leading me to drop my pen and slap my hands over my face in an effort to drown out the groan of despair that tumbled past my lips.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck,fuck.
How the hell was I stupid enough to have a goddamnwet dreamabout the man that I’d inexplicably let into my bed?
To the point where I’d been humping the shit out of him in real life and had almost come right before I’d manage to wake myself up out of it.
