The Next Morning

I woke up with someone else’s sheets around me. There was a guy with short brown hair and pale skin wearing just boxers lying next to me. I assumed that we had slept together, but since I couldn’t remember anything from the night before that assumption could be incorrect.

I got out of bed and put on my clothes since I was in just my underwear and a bra. I made coffee in what was a very messy kitchen. There were dishes piled in the sink, an old pizza box on the kitchen table and an overflowing garbage bin next to the fridge. I almost felt the need to clean up but I didn’t want to intrude more than I already had.

The guy in the bed stirred. Hopefully he could clue me into what had happened last night.

“Mmm. Coffee,” he said, groggily. “Where have you been all my life? I wouldn’t mind having someone to make me coffee every morning.” He got out of bed, revealing his muscular chest and ripped arms. His handsome face and strong jaw line made me swoon.

“Yes. Coffee. I’m glad you don’t mind that I helped myself to the coffee maker.” I poured some coffee into a mug that I had found in the cupboard.

“No problem at all. If you want to come over more often and make coffee, that’s fine by me.” I looked down at the kitchen table where there was a stack of mail with the name “Gabe Williams.” At least I had a small piece of information about this stranger who I’d spent the night with.

“So Gabe. Tell me. What happened last night? Because I have no idea where I am or how I got here.”

“Rebecca, don’t worry.” He knew my name. This was a good sign. “Nothing happened. You were out with your friends and for some reason they left without you. I offered to take you home, but you said that your apartment was being fumigated and you’re staying with your parents. You thought it best not to wake them. I offered to let you crash at my place. Since I only have one bed, we shared it. That’s it.”

“So we didn’t sleep together.”

“Nope. You passed out pretty quickly. It was probably all the tequila you guys were shooting. You were not taking it slow, that’s for sure.”

“So do you want some breakfast? I could make you eggs or something,” Gabe offered.

“No that’s okay. I should probably get going. My parents are probably worried.” I took another look at his abs and was certain I was making the wrong choice, but I didn’t want to get in any more trouble than I already was.

“I can take you home, then,” offered Gabe.

“That’d be awesome. Thank you.” Gabe put on pants and a t-shirt. He put some coffee in a thermos and got his keys off the kitchen table. We went out the door and he took me in his car to my parents’ house. When he dropped me off, I was about to wave him goodbye and thank him when he said, “Wait. I didn’t give you my number.” He took a pen out of his pants and took my hand in his. He wrote his number on my palm in very deliberate lettering.

“I hope to hear from you,” Gabe said.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said.

 

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