After Life

29

A dull gray light filtered through the sheer drapes over the window across the room. It took me a while to actually come awake, since the light wasn't harsh and fighting for my attention against the sleep I so loved. I stretched my arms over my head, my legs pulled down the bed until I was completely sprawled, before curling back into myself and tucking my hands under my head. Inhaling deeply, it was only then that I caught the unfamiliar, yet delicious scent of the pillow.

My eyes opened quickly, my senses immediately alert and confused. Looking around the unfamiliar space, my mind was racing.

Where the fuck was I? Why was I not in my bed?

I sat up, looking around the room again, as the night before slowly flooded back to me. My panic began to fade, and I exhaled.

Harry. I was at Harry's.

Taking a deep breath, I rubbed my hands over my face, crossing my legs under the blankets to make myself more sturdy in my current position on his bed.

My mind retraced the night before slowly, still tired and resistant to the idea of coming awake. I remembered working for Stacy, a long, tiring, hectic shift that reminded me why I hated and rarely worked Friday nights. I remembered Harry being there, drunk and adorable, before turning back into his demanding and domineering self when he practically dragged me home with him due to the inclement weather.

Glancing out the window across the room, it looked like the weather hadn't improved much since the night before. Tiny flakes still fluttered past the window, but it was nothing as it had been the night before. It seemed, the worst was over.

Looking down at myself, I found Harrys shirt covering my body. His too large track pants were twisted around my legs, the sweatshirt he had given me discarded at the foot of the bed the night before. Glancing at the sweatshirt, I felt my cheeks flush at the memories of the moments right before I came to bed.

Harry admitting that he hadn't hated the whole participation in my photo project as much as I had created in my mind. All this time, I pictured him loathing every second, silently cursing me to the depths of Hades and back with each click of the shutter. When in reality, he said it had been the first time in years he hadn't felt exposed when having his photo taken.

He had teased me, we had bickered. That was nothing new. It seemed to be how we exchanged banter with each other, since coming to some form of agreement with regard to our friendship. He tied the sleeves of his shirt together, trapping me inside, as he pinned me down in a playful wrestling match that turned into the second sexually charged moment between us in less than a week.

I shook my head at myself, my face flaming as I remembered the look in his eyes. The way they flickered between my own and my lips. The way I knew what he had been thinking, and the way I didn't even consider stopping him.

I also remembered the way he had moved towards me, only a millimeter, before his loud and raucously drunk roommate stormed in, making a remark about catching us in the act, before retreating to his room.

That was all it took to turn the tables again, our 'moment' ending as quickly as it began.