Page 55 of Her Sloth

CASS

PLAYLIST: SEVEN NATION ARMY – THE WHITE STRIPES

“How bad is it on a scale of one to ten?” I ask her as she groans next to me in the bed.

“Eleven,” she says. “Who had the fucking idea for that fucking glass front?”

I laugh, get up, and close the curtains attached around the bed, except for one little slit so we can see something.

“Better?”

“Loads,” she says, rolling onto her belly. Rolls back. “Bad idea,” she mumbles.

I laugh.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” I say. “That’ll help with the stomach.”

“Unless you’re offering your pussy, I don’t want it,” she says, pressing her hands to her temples.

Heat shoots into my head as I blush. I can be lucky those curtains are closed, because that would be embarrassing beyond.

I say nothing, because my mind went empty the moment she said it. I don’t even know what to think about it. Because I don’t think. I act. And acting feels all sorts of wrong here.

“Um,” I finally say. “What do you remember from last night?”

“Everything,” she then says. “Humor button.”

I pretend-laugh as I release some of the tension that just built between us.

“I’m getting breakfast,” I say, getting up. I need some distance from whatever the fuck happened within the past twenty-four hours.

“Just call room service,” she says.

“Yeah, but I don’t want fancy rich people stuff. I’m more of a bacon and ham sandwich.”

“Uh yes, I’m in,” she says. “Where do we get a good one?”

“At my house,” I say. “My brother, otherwise useless, but his bacon and ham sandwiches are legendary.”

She sighs.

“That’s a long way for a sandwich. Especially considering the brightness of the sun.”

“I thought you were from L.A., don’t you kinda have to love the sun?”

“I’m a creative,” she says and sits up. “I work late, party at night, and sleep during the day.”

“I’m a morning person,” I blurt out like an idiot. “There’s nothing like a beautiful sunrise.”

“Oh, I get to see the sunrise, too. Only I’m about to go to bed afterward,” she says as she stands up. Sways slightly—I grasp her.

“Whoopsie,” she says. Giggles. “You’re cute,” she says, removes her shirt and pants, including her bra and panties, right in front of me. Those breasts—and then she walks to the bathroom. Naked, with an ass from heaven.

I stare after her.

Did she just strip in front of me?

She fucking did.