The Stranger / Chris Evans x OC

Chapter 17: What Did I Do?

AMELIA

I freeze when I hear his voice. 

If there's any appropriate time to get a stroke, this would certainly be it. 

Come on, higher powers. Counting on you to do your job right now. 

"How do you feel?" 

I drop my head a little, grimacing slightly before turning to him with an awkward smile. 

"I-uhm," my voice comes out hoarse and dry, making me clear it, "I feel fine. Thanks. Just getting my stuff so I can get out of your hair."

That makes him do the exact opposite of what I expect him to do. 

What I need him to do. 

I would expect him to nod, clearly realizing that I acted like an idiot last night. I would expect him to want and need me to leave because I'm the reason he had to sleep on the couch, in his own fucking hotel room. 

I expect him to be wildly irritated with me. 

But no. 

That's not what he does. 

Instead, he sits up on the couch, his back resting against the arm of it, putting his naked chest on full display as the blanket slides down his torso when he moves. 

I stand there, staring at the tattoos adorning his upper chest, and his slightly disheveled hair, and then his sleepy morning voice just says, "Why?" 

Why?

Why?!

Because I apparently got so drunk that you needed to bring me to your room and put me in your clothes, Mr. Evans!

That's why! 

Oh god, what if you puked on yourself? And that's why he gave you his clothes?

OH GOD. WHAT IF YOU PUKED ON HIM?! 

I slowly pick up my clothes as I smile at him awkwardly, "Oh, uhm, because, you know.." 

"Because, what?" He just asks, rubbing his eyes with his palms roughly before resting his arms on top of the comforter. 

BECAUSE I ACTED LIKE A DRUNK IDIOT AND I SHOULD LET YOU LIVE YOUR EXTRAORDINARY FABULOUS LIFE IN PEACE, THAT'S WHY! 

"Because I got really drunk and apparently you felt the need to take care of me...?" I answer hesitantly. 

I look at him for a moment before his face splits into a grin as he chuckles. 

"You don't remember, do you?" 

I flush a shade of red that's probably not even on the color scale as I shake my head, "N-no, not really." 

He chuckles again, and before I know it he's getting up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen. 

"Sit down. I'll make some coffee." 

I look at him in surprise and awe, but not because he's being nice. 

No, I stare at him because he just got up from the couch and walked towards the kitchen in nothing but his underwear and gave me a perfect view. 

A perfect view of that perfect fucking body. 

Of those long legs. And the thighs. And the abs. And the chest. And the arms. And the back. And the ass. 

I move over to the couch in silence - well, actually, I'm dumfounded - and I mainly do it because I don't think I'm in a place to tell Chris Evans 'No' right now. Not after he let me sleep in his bed as he slept on the couch.