“It’s okay baby, we’ve all had those nights.” He smiles at me through my little peep hole.
“How are you so okay?” I ask, finally emerging from my cocoon of his hoodie.
“I don’t get sick, and I sure as shit don’t get hung over.”
I roll my eyes, only widening his grin. “What time did you even wake up?”
“Around seven.”
“So that means you got what, three hours of sleep?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “But that’s pretty standard for me. So tellme, what do you remember from last night?” He leans into the counter again with a wicked smile.
I remember my sex dream.
“You picked me up from that party. We got rained on. We showered and got dry. Then, drank way too much bourbon. My head is reminding me with its persistent ache. We laughed way too much my abs hurt. Then we fell asleep in your bed after giggling around like two idiots.” I pick apart the bits and pieces. It’s honestly all just fragments in my memory. A bourbon blurred mess.
A too wide grin pulls his lips as he stares at me.
“What?” I ask.
He clears his throat as he takes a sip of his coffee.
“Tyler, what…Oh my god.” I place a hand over my mouth. “So that wasn’t just a dream?”
The dream is now becoming reality as the coffee and bacon absorb the alcohol in my system.
“Oh, so you dream about me, do you?” he laughs as he pours himself more coffee and then fills my cup.
I pull the hoodie over my face as my cheeks heat and slump down into the chair.
“Come on, little fire, no need to be embarrassed. A woman has needs.”
“So, do you make breakfast for every girl you have over?” I ask, still shielding the redness taking over my face.
“Just you.” He hands me two ibuprofens and a glass of water. “Take these now that you have some substance in your system.”
“Not even Shelby?”
“Not even Shelby.”
I take a bite of bacon and pop the pills in my mouth, flushing it with some coffee. I know what I’m about to ask can lead in two different directions of how this morning will go. I figure it’s time I know, especially with all the parts we’ve shared with one another already.
And frankly, I’m nosy.
Shelby is a sensitive topic, but it isn’t for the common reasons you’d think. He wasn’t in love with her, and I need to know those reasons. He knows every dirty detail about me. Well, as much as he needs to know. I want to know every dirty detail about him, no matter how dark. We are sharing parts of one another that he shared with her.
The thought makes me sick.
“Tyler?” I look at him.
“Sunny?” He answers, still reading the paper.
“When are you going to tell me about what happened with Shelby?”
He sets the paper down and looks at me, making my heart thrum against my chest. He stares at me blankly, and I’m unable to read what’s sitting behind those eyes.
“What do you want to know?”
