“You didn’t bring a coat? It’s December,” Rowan laughed. We turned down a dark alleyway that led into a large, open-air car park. I followed behind Rowan as he dug through his pocket for his keys. There was a bright flash of orange as he pressed the unlock button. I should have figured Rowan’s car would be as sexy as the man himself.
“Is that an AMG?” I asked as we approached the dark grey Mercedes.
“Yeah. Do you like cars?” he asked.
“I likethatcar. We’re clearly paying you too much,” I joked, pleased when Rowan laughed.
“You’ll have to remind me where you live.”
I walked to the passenger side of the car, confused for a moment when Rowan did too. It all happened so fast. I felt him grab the material of my t-shirt and he slammed me roughly against the cold metal of the car. The air left my lungs, and he crushed his mouth against mine.
I couldn’t think straight. All the desire and pent-up lust burst forth and bubbled beneath my skin. The biting cold was ignored as the vodka convinced me it was a good idea to push my tongue into Rowan’s mouth.
We kissed feverishly, messily... Rowan groaned into my mouth, pressing tighter still. I couldn’t breathe and I didn’t care. If it meant him moving away, I didn’t want to breathe. I grabbed the lapels of his coat in my fists and pulled him in tighter.
When we finally broke for air, clouds of breath from our panting billowed up into the frosty night air. We stared at one another for a long moment. My hands released him, and Rowan silently adjusted his coat. He cleared his throat and stepped away, walking around the car to the driver’s side. I took a deep breath before opening the door and joining him inside.
Rowan pressed the ignition button in, and the car’s engine roared to life. We each pulled our seatbelts down, clicking them into place and Rowan pulled off.
Neither of us said anything, but not because it was awkward. There was nothing that could be said; that kiss had spoken more than words ever could.
???
When I woke the next day, I instantly wished I hadn’t. Sleep had been an uneventful blank moment – no dreams, no thoughts. Nothing. Waking, however, was a whole new world of pain. I groaned, sitting up on my elbows. My mouth was dry, and a wave of nausea hit me.
“Fuck,” I grumbled, rubbing my face with my palm. I glanced across at my bedside clock: eleven-thirty AM.
“Fuck,” I said again, swinging my legs out of the bed. I paused for a moment to ensure I was ready to stand before I actually did. I flexed my arms above my head, the muscles in my back protesting almost immediately.
I grabbed a hooded jacket off the back of my computer chair where I’d thrown it the day before and tugged that over my head. The room spun and I froze, fighting the urge to throw up.
Once I had determined I wasn’t about to lose the contents of my stomach, I pulled some old tracksuit bottoms on and wandered out into the living room. Oliver, of course, didn’t have the decency to be out.
“Morning,” he called. “Sleep well?”
I just grunted a reply and he laughed. I sat down heavily next to him, slumping against the large, soft cushions of the sofa.
“You were hammered when you got in last night. Do you remember getting home?” he asked.
I shook my head, scouring my memory of the night before. “I don’t remember much after getting to the bar…” I trailed off, my breath suddenly caught in my chest. Flickers of memories began to return, breaking through the hangover haze. Rowan. Ikissedhim last night. I felt my stomach lurch.
“Ugh, fuck,” I groaned, getting up and dashing to the bathroom. Oliver just chuckled to himself as I flew past him.
Hunched over the toilet I coughed and spluttered, fighting hard to hold off the assault of memories. I remembered getting to the bar, drinking too much, too quickly and then… I sat back to lean my back against the bathtub, resisting the second wave of nausea that hit me. I shivered, swiping the sweat from my brow. Despite myself, I pressed my fingertips to my lips. They were bruised. If the hangover didn’t already make me want to die, the thought of having to face Rowan again in work the next day certainly did.
There was a sharp rap at the door. “You okay in there?”
“No. I think I have to quit my job,” I groaned.
Oliver laughed. “What the fuck did you do last night?”
???
“Morning Max.” Becca came out into the hallway to greet me as I shook the sleet from my coat before hanging it up.
“Morning,” I replied, rather subdued.
“Are you alright?” she asked quietly. Concern flashed in her eyes.
