Going For The Gap

The moment I open my eyes I realize it's not my room. Sitting straight up in shock, I start to understand where I am. Who I'm next to.

Charles.

Holy fuck, I got so drunk I blacked out. I haven't done that in years.

And I've got a hell of a headache to prove it.

But must concerning, is the man sleeping next to me.

Oh shit, did we fuck?

I wrack my brain, but I have no idea. None. Last thing I remember was getting into the car with him.

But this is not my outfit. It's his tshirt I'm wearing, but it is my underwear.

Interesting.

I'd run away now but my hangover is keeping me down for the count.

"Fucking hell" I whisper, cleaning the sheet to me.

Where is my phone?

I need room service and water, like pronto. The only solution is to wake him.

"Charles?" I gently nudge his shoulder, thanking my lucky stars he's easy to wake.

He doesn't even crack an eye open because he already knows my question. "Yes, get room service. Will you get me eggs too?"

Fuck me.

I forgot how easy it is to be with him. How nice it is to already know each others breakfast orders. To know what I'm going to ask without even opening his eyes. 

I feel so known around Charles. Safe. Alive with just a touch. Unlike anything else I've ever felt before, as much as I wish it wasn't. If soulmates exist I'm fairly sure he's mine. But just like my answer on the boat, there really is nothing humans won't fuck up for themselves. We're too broken. Too messy. Life is too hard.

Even still, it is far too easy to fall into a normal evening after routine with him.

Breakfast in bed, giggling over stories from the evening before. A little flirting. Easing into the day with a smile. In keeping with tradition we don't bother to discuss any of the hard shit, and with this headache that is just fine by me. We're alone again and enjoying ourselves.

I could get used to this.

But that's not what he wants. Charles just wants sex, and that's no longer enough for me.

Speaking of sex, "Did we sleep together last night?" I ask as I crunch on. Avoiding looking at him. Bracing for the truth. Fuck knows I wanted to. It'd be a miracle if we didn't.

"You think I'd do that with you black out?" His tone shocked.

He wouldn't?

He wouldn't be the first one to. But this time I need to keep feelings out of it. Need to protect myself. So I don't say that, instead voicing "We barely know each other."

A lie.

I can't meet his eye right now.

His stare burning into my flesh like lasers.

Classic me, continues to avoid using the food before us. 

"I'd like to say we're friends." Charles voice is soft, telling me a line from the night we first met. I'm not sure if he's quiet out of intention or sadness at my words.

"I bet you say that to all the girls, huh?" I tease, pushing him way every chance I get.

He knows it too. "No. And no, we didn't sleep together -" His tone deadly serious, but I feel victorious at the words. Drunk me deserves a pat on the back for her resistance. "Not for your lack of trying."

Ouch. I physically cringe and turn to look back at him. "Shit, that bad?" I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.

He's smirking, loving this to the max. "I'd beg me to fuck too if I was you."

Beg?

Kill me now.

Drunk Amelia doesn't deserve that pat on the back after all.

I can't believe he shot me down, drunk as hell or not. Charles is a rare breed indeed.

I wonder what that says briefly, but I don't want to think about that right now.

"I'll fuck anyone when I'm drunk." I lie, trying to brush it off.

He knows it's a lie. But I can't miss the twinge of pain that flies over his face.

I wonder what that's about...

"It's my birthday next week," Charles tell me with a change of subject and I give him a nod, pretending I didn't already know that "Will you come to my party in Vegas."

"Sure." I give him a small smile, feeling the fanny flutters at the smallest eye contact we connect over. Charles brings such a spark to me.

"Pinky promise?" He extends a pinky, matching my smile with his own.

"Promise," I connect our fingers and literal electricity shoots out between us. Enough to power a fucking car. "Now, where is my phone?"

Time to stop touching. Time to flee to my own hotel. If I stay here with him, I'll definitely sleep with him. I'm dying for his touch. For more of him.

But I promised myself for the millionth time in this situationship I would not be the one to cave this time. And I won't. If he wants me, he'll have to prove it this time.

So I need my phone, and a car. Pronto.