**Oliver's POV**
I woke up the next morning in the most unexpected position. Or at least... I was on my back, as usual, but for the first time in forever, there was someone in my arms.
I looked down at Katrina. She was still sleeping soundly, pressed up against my side now, with her head partially on my shoulder and chest. Her hand was holding onto my shirt, her fingers curled around the material. And I could feel a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
I had girls over in the past. Usually I'd shag them and then they'd leave. It was rare that one would stay the night. This was definitely different. Starting with the fact that nothing had happened. For some reason I didn't really mind though.
It was a few more minutes before she finally started stirring and slowly woke from her slumber.
"Hey there. How are you feeling, love?" I softly asked, trying my hardest not to laugh as I thought back about how much she drank, especially since it was her first time.
"Terrible." She groaned softly, burying her head further into my chest. I had to admit that I kind of enjoyed it.
"Well, you probably have a proper hangover, so you'll be knackered all day. Take it easy, love." I told her, gently removing her blonde locks from her face and tucking them behind her ear.
**Katrina's POV**
My head was throbbing and it was driving me insane. How could something hurt this much? I groaned and buried my head further into whatever I was lying on. It was too hard to be a pillow, but I didn't care, I just wanted the headache to go away.
"Well, you probably have a proper hangover, so you'll be knackered all day. Take it easy, love." The thick British-accented man beside me said, somehow a hint of amusement in his voice.
I then felt a hand reach my face, fingertips touching my skin lightly and moving my hair out of the way. That's when it hit me... I was still with Oliver... and he was in bed with me? Lord, I drank so much too.
Wait...
Oh god.
I propped myself up on the palms of my hands, now hovering above Oliver in my attempt to distance myself form him, which honestly was a position that really worried me.
"Something wrong, love?" He asked, frowning at my shocked face.
"We didn't, did we? Oh god, did we? Please don't tell me we did!" I started rambling, panicking slightly. And only panicking more when Oliver started grinning. "Oh no, we did." I muttered defeated, slouching back down beside him on my back.
That's when Oliver started chuckling. "Nothing happened, love. I promise. You pretty much blacked out as soon as your head hit the pillow."
"Oh thank god." I breathed, holding my hand to my heart in pure relief.
"What?" Oliver then asked, arching an eyebrow at me and sitting up. "Would having sex with me be such an awful thing?" He almost sounded offended.
"No!" I immediately exclaimed without thinking, eliciting a mad grin from Oliver as a result. Oh bugger, that's not what I meant. "I mean... I don't know. I just wouldn't have been very happy if my first time, with anyone, would've been while I was intoxicated." I tried to quickly explain.
However, that didn't make him stop grinning at all. "I see." He simply said, eyeing me up and down, making me blush just about a million shades of red.
I finally looked away as I heard the sound of the front door opening catching my attention, as well as a few curse words leaving Oliver's mouth. A middle-aged woman entered the room, holding two grocery bags in her hands. "Good morning, Oliver. Still in bed, I assume." She said before turning to us. She was smiling, but her smile faded when she saw me. "Oh, I didn't know you had another one of your slags over." She then said.
A gasp elicited from Oliver's mouth. "She is not a slag and I'd prefer if you didn't call her that." He snapped at her.
The woman raised both of her eyebrows, giving Oliver an unimpressed look. "Do I look bothered?" She asked, putting the bags down on the table.
Oliver then groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Katrina, this is my mother. I apologize, she's a bit rude sometimes." He muttered below his breath.
"Aren't you supposed to be working at the community center, or are you slacking on your probation hours?" His mother, apparently, then asked.
"My probation officer is sick, mother, and they didn't have a replacement, so no I'm not slacking." Oliver pointed out in a sour tone.
My presence here suddenly felt way too awkward. Which was my queue to leave. I should probably head home anyways. And right now I wished that I already had done that last night. God, I wish I didn't drink so much.
"I should probably go." I spoke softly, getting out of Oliver's bed and quickly scrambling my clothes together before making my way into his bathroom and closing the door behind me.
"For once I have a girl over whom I actually like, and you go calling her a slag. Thanks so much for that, mother. Really appreciate it." I heard Oliver complain.
I felt this odd tingling in my stomach when I heard him say that. Did he actually like me? How was that even possible? I honestly assumed that I was just some annoying rich snob to him.
"Are you taking the piss right now?" His mother asked incredulously.
"No, I'm dead fucking serious. But you've probably ruined it for me now."
The rest of their conversation were inaudible whispers, so I stopped focusing on that and quickly got dressed. I took off Oliver's shirt, folding it and placing it down on the hamper beside the shower. I slipped my dress back on and looked into the mirror for a moment, trying to fix my hair was best I could.
I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. Oliver liked me. That seemed impossible.
When I finally left the bathroom, there was no sign of his mother and Oliver was in the kitchen, still dressed in the same shirt as last night and a pair of tracksuit pants.
He smiled as he looked back at me over his shoulder. "Sorry about my mother. I hope she didn't offend you too badly." He said.
I quickly shook my head. "No, it's fine." I muttered, still wondering what she had meant with 'another one of his slags'. Whatever it even meant, it didn't sound very positive judging by Oliver's reaction.
"Would you like to stay for breakfast? It will help the hangover." He then suggested.
He started up the gas and threw some butter into the pan. The smell of that alone already made my stomach rumble. "Uh, sure, I guess I could." I muttered, slightly embarrassed.
Oliver threw me another smile, laced with a hint of achievement as he then focused back on cooking. "Is toast, scrambled eggs and bacon good enough for you?" He asked, a teasing tone in his voice.
(yes I know Oli is vegan, but fuck it)
"Of course, yeah, that sounds good." It was already better than what I'd usually have at home anyways.
I parked myself quietly on the couch while Oliver prepared breakfast, taking in the small yet cozy apartment. Of course it was small compared to what I was used to, but I liked it. What more did you really need anyways?
The mansion that I lived in was overrated. I definitely learned that once my father started selling most of the furniture and art that filled up the halls and rooms. He sold almost everything, except the things that we actually needed, and his cars to keep up the charade. That way from an outside perspective it still looked like we were as wealthy as before.
I wondered whether we would be able to keep that up for another two years though.
Soon enough, Oliver came over to me and handed me the plate of food. He sat down beside me and immediately started digging into his own meal.
I had to say, for something so simple, it tasted great.
"So... last night, you told me something." Oliver said, just after finishing eating his breakfast. I looked at him questioningly, not really remembering anything significant that I might've told him. He gave me a serious look. "You said your father beats you."
I felt the color drain from my face almost instantly. Did I really tell him that?
"And well, your bedroom kind of stood out a little, no offense. I guess it's easy to put one and two together, but would you mind telling me what's going on?"