Nothing.
A clean break. Like someone hit delete on the rest of the night.
TheharderIthinkaboutit,theworsemyhead pounds.
“Igottapiss,”Imutter,stumblingtowardthe bathroom.
I’mwashingmyhandswhenaloudsnorenearly sends me into cardiac arrest. I spin around-
And there’s Eric.
Naked.
Except for the goddamn feather boa.
Passed out in the bathtub, arms wrapped around an empty vodka bottle like it’s his soulmate.
Despite the hangover threatening my existence, a laugh bubbles out of me. I clamp a hand over my mouth and back out of the bathroom as quietly as possible.
I need to grab my phone. Some moments are gifts.
And I refuse to waste this one.
“What’s going on?” Aksel asks as I yank pillows and blankets off the bed, searching frantically. He still hasn’t moved from his spot against the headboard, watching me with bleary curiosity.
“Eric is passed out in the tub,” I snicker, breathless. “I need photographic evidence.”
Have I mentioned before how mature I am? I fling the last blanket aside and freeze.
Abs. Bare skin. Bright red briefs.
That’s all my brain manages to register before my feet betray me and I go down hard, ass over elbow, tangled in bedding on the floor.
“Fuck!”
My head throbs in time with my pulse and the sudden, undeniable ache between my legs. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying the hangover has dulled his senses because I amleaking, and my pheromones are absolutely out of control.
“You okay?” Aksel asks, already moving toward me. That helpsnothing.
Our eyes lock, his full of concern, mine blown wide with heat. My face feels like it’s on fire. I’m breathing too fast. Too shallow. Is this contact heat? Can it come on this quickly? I’ve never experienced it before, but panic claws its way up my spine.
I need my suppressants. I need my room.
I need my wallet.
My brain is running on fumes. “What’s with all the yelling?”
Eric’s voice cuts straight through the tension.
He stands in the bathroom doorway, completely and unapologetically naked except for the stupid feather boa, sippingmycoffee and scratching his balls like this is a perfectly normal morning activity.
Nothing to see here. Just a lumberjack swinging his metaphorical axe.
“Jesus, dude,” Aksel laughs, tossing a pillow at him. “Put that thing away before you hurt someone. Guess I know why you’re so popular now, huh?”
Eric casuallybatsthe pillow asideandtakesanother sip.
“Iwaslookingformyphoneandmyroomkey,”I say, forcing my voice into something resembling casual. “I need something from my room.”
