Drunk on Love

Chapter 2

I woke up next morning feeling unrealistically happy. I had never felt genuinely like this since I was in high school, I think. Maybe all my thoughts of the previous night were wrong, I was almost a hundred percent sure about that now. I know I do not really know who Thomas is, but I do know that I was being myself and he never made one single joke about that, he was surprisingly respectful towards that.

I walked out into the kitchen as any other Saturday morning, it must have been around eight o’clock and I was wearing nothing but some panties and a robe. I was making some tea when a voice came from my living room.

“Good morning, gorgeous.”

I jumped, frightened as hell, almost dropping the boiling water all over my bare hands.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” As I turned to look at him I saw the filthy old neighbor that used to come to my house asking for beer.

“What…the hell…are you…”

“Oh don’t freak out, gorgeous.”

“Doing here!?” Now I have spilled some water on my hands, but it didn’t burn as much as the rage inside my chest.

“How did you get in here?” I put the teapot down on the kitchen counter and walked up to Thomas who was lying on the couch holding a cup of coffee on his left hand while covering his face from the sunlight with his right hand. “God! You reek of alcohol, are you hangover? Where did you get that coffee? Why are you in my living room?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Gorgeous, what’s with all the questions? Calm down, I’ve got a horrible headache and you’re just making it worse.” He sat up straight and put the cup down on the table.

“Okay, I will stop making it worse when you answer at least one of my questions.”

“I used your coffee machine…”

“Not that one!” I yelled in desperation.

“Sorry, sorry.” He leaned back again and put his feet up on the table.

“How did you get into my home and why?”

“Though you said only one question.”

I took one of the pillows on the couch and started slapping Tom with it, he tried to push me off him but he could only manage to cover his face with his arms. “Alright, alright,” he said. “Could you pass me that mug?” I gave it to him.

“So, how the hell did you get in?” I asked in a much calmer tone now.

“Well, gorgeous,” he took a drink of his coffee, “you should make sure you lock your door at night.”

“I do lock my door at night.”

“You do? Oh, then you must be more careful where you keep your spare key.”

“Wait a second, I lost that key months ago.”

“You didn’t lose it, I took it.” He took another drink of his coffee.

This got me on to my feet and I started yelling again. “You did what!? Why would you do that? And why would you carry that around with you?”

“I don’t, I guess I just messed up last night. And I came home really drunk so it must’ve made sense to me to come into your place.”

“Why would you have gone out again? We came home pretty late last night.” I sat down again, this time next to him on the couch.

“Well…I guess I was looking for some more…fun.”