Blooming Penelope Featherington

Grievances.

"That's the thing about pain, it demands to be felt." – John Green

Penelope made her way back into the bar. She took her seat, and Colin spent most of the night at the bar nursing a scotch. Far away from her. She did start to feel a small feeling of guilt at one point, well that was until a thin brunette approached him, and he seemed to entertain it.

Was he trying to make her jealous?

His mind games were exhausting.

Penelope decided in the moment, her friend for the night was alcohol. Eloise was game too, Penelope just wanted to end the night by forgetting her name. So, the shots flowed, Michael Stirling (the Scotsman) became the facilitator, now that man could drink.

Penelope was sure at one point of the night she was up on a chair dancing.

Or what it a table?

There was also vague memory of leaving the bar to head towards a club, which in turned ended up having Benedict and her having a pole dancing competition...

The less remembrance of that the better.

As she lay in bed the next day, she found herself in an oversized top with her underwear on underneath. As she raised herself from the bed, she realised she wasn't in her room, she was... FUCK... in Colin's room. She quickly scanned the room for any signs of life.

Did she sleep with Colin Bridgerton?

Why was she in his bedroom, and why was she in his bed?

Colin stood at the doorway of his en-suite in nothing but a towel.

He shook the wetness from his hair and smiled, "Morning."

She noticed his strong chest, the manly chest hair (where did that come from), his bulging arms, and abs.... the abs. He had changed so much since a few years ago. Not that he wasn't handsome before, but he still had those hamster cheeks, and well he wasn't as defined.

Jesus Christ, she pulled the covers over her head and crashed back into the bed.

Colin laughed, "You don't remember anything do you?"

She shook her head from underneath the covers.

"Nothing happened Pen, as hard as it was... nothing happened, I promise," Colin sat next to her and slowly pulled down the covers to see her face.

"Did you sleep there?" Penelope asked as she pointed to the other side of the bed.

"Yep, you wouldn't let me leave," Penelope couldn't connect any dots.

What. The. Fuck. Happened.

_____________

Colin had become the bag handler for his sisters and Penelope for most of the time at the club. It was only the two girls, with him and Benedict. He blamed Michael and those bloody shots. As much as Colin was annoyed with seeing Penelope embracing Fife outside the bar, there was no way in hell she was allowed to be out looking the way she did without an escort.

She needed to be protected.

By the end of the night, Penelope was drunk, extremely drunk. Eloise was nearly sleeping, and Benedict? Well... he was stone cold sober. Somehow, that man who probably drank more than anyone, managed to drink himself completely sober.

Colin couldn't understand how he did it.

Benedict took Eloise in the first taxi, and she sprawled along the back seats.

"Col I can't move her; will you and Pen get in the next one?"

Benedict shouted across the parking lot towards the door of the club, Colin held his thumbs up as he was concentrating on getting Penelope to a taxi in one piece. They flagged down a car, and climbed in. She was hiccupping from the amount of alcohol that was consumed. It was cute. She came closer and buried her head into his chest.