Tonight, Not Again

Something was off. As I twisted around in my bed on Saturday morning I knew something, aside from the cotton panties I typically wore, was off.

Snoring.

Snoring, and the arm I felt loosely wrapped around my waist.

Snoring, and the arm I felt loosely wrapped around my waist, and the fact that I was in nothing but my Birthday Suit.

Trying to remain calm, I inhaled deeply. Despite the black spots popping in and out of my vision, I knew I wasn’t imagining this.
“What have you done now, Zoey Tyler, what have you done?” I muttered to myself. Though, the more appropriate question seemed to be not what had I done, but whom?

When I peeked through my eyelashes, I was staring at a chin covered in two day’s worth of stubble. I propped myself up onto my elbows to get a better look.

Well, I certainly hadn’t ended up in bed with the bar’s janitor.

I rolled onto my other side, groping the floor until I found some article of clothing. I slyly shifted out of my bedmate’s grasp and slipped a navy blue t-shirt over my head. It smelled like musk, soap and cigarette smoke. An intoxicating combination—even for an asthmatic like myself. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to recall the night before.

The man groaned softly as the bed shifted. Oh god, even his incoherent noises were sexy.

I hovered by the door, taking in the trail of hastily discarded clothing. At least I had ended up back in my own home. Placing my hand on my chest, I mimicked my rapidly beating heart. All I could remember was that my friends bought my drinks.
I sighed and pounded my already pounding forehead. How had we ended up at my place? I hoped to a higher being that I hadn’t gotten behind the wheel of my car. I didn’t typically make a habit of going out and getting drunk, so to say I was unsure of what to do was an understatement. Did I wake him up? Did I go back to sleep so that he could wake up and leave?

As I struggled with my thoughts, my new friend had woken up and was watching me carefully.
“Don’t tell me you were going to leave a note?” I cringed. His voice was tired, a little hoarse. “Leaving a note and making off with my clothes? Come on now.”

When I finally decided to meet his eyes, I was shocked to see him smiling at me. And what a smile that was—which was, without a doubt, the reason we wound up in my bed. I had a thing for guys with nice smiles. It was a shy smile, which made it all the more endearing.

“Er, hi…” I smiled meekly, drawing a complete blank of his name. Heat flooded into my cheeks.
“Rob,” he answered. He knew I hadn’t remembered.
“Right!” I pointed my finger as if I’d already known that. “Rob, of course…wait. Rob…Pattinson?” Rob was looking at me with somewhat of an amused and embarrassed smile on his face.
“And you’re Zoey.” I scrunched up my face, thinking that it he should have been the one to forget my name. Not the other way around.
“That’s me.” My eyes wandered around the room, anywhere but at the man sitting up half-naked in my bed.

Who was I kidding? I’d stepped over his boxers, he was completely naked. I had a naked celebrity in my bed. And let’s not forget my underwear hanging from the lampshade. When I did something, I sure as hell went all out.

“Are you alright?” Rob suddenly shifted across the bed, keeping himself covered, and grabbed his boxers from the floor. After sliding them on he stood up and scrounged for his jeans, keeping his eyes on me the whole while. His brows knitted in something resembling concern and he looked slightly more uncomfortable than I felt.
“Er, yeah.” The guy probably just wanted to get out of here. After all, I had seen him in magazine not too long ago with a pretty blonde girl. “Bit of a headache.” A chuckle rumbled from his throat. It was a cute sound, almost like a giggle.
I looked at my toes and hoped that if I clicked my heels together I would wake up from this—whatever this was. When I decided that I wanted a fling, I hadn’t realized how awkward it was going to be.
The next thing I knew I was staring up into steely blue eyes.
“Three aspirin, two cups of coffee—good coffee—and follow that up with a Diet Coke. I swear it works.”
I was so caught up in watching him that I’d forgotten to respond. Instead, I stood pressed up against the wall playing with the hem of his shirt as he stood in front of me. My god, one look at him and I was on Cloud Nine.
“—could get my shirt back?” I snapped out of my daze when he appeared right beside me, looking at me strangely. His shirt, right. The shirt I was wearing.
“Er, yes.” My eyes darted around my bedroom until they landed on the clothes I’d been wearing last night. “Give me one second.” I quickly snatched my underwear from the lamp and hid them behind my back.

I was sure he saw.

When I came out of the bathroom, he was gone. I heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe it was just a ploy—he didn’t really want his shirt back, he just wanted a way out and now he was walking around Venice Beach without a shirt.

But I wasn’t that lucky.

As I walked out into the living room, I saw him. He was standing in front of the bookshelf, with his back to me. I waited a few seconds before making a sound—I just wanted to watch him. He moved in front of the shelves, leaning closer when he noticed something in particular. And while I was caught up in watching him, he turned and startled the hell out of me. I quickly thrust the shirt into his hands, smiling nervously.
“Right, thanks.” He pulled the shirt over his head. “You’ve got some great books.” I smiled and admired my own collection.
“Well I love books.”

Well I love books? That was the best I could do? Conversation with this guy had been easy the night before—witty even. Now I’d been reduced to “I love books”. He smiled at me and I realized I needed a comeback.

“Do you want some coffee?”

Well, at least I hadn’t asked a stupid question.

“Actually,” Rob scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve got to head out.” Of course he did. I reminded myself that he wasn’t here to chat. “They’ve got me scheduled for some press stuff.”
“Right.” I shook my head. However beautiful he was, this was a wham-bam-thank-you-m’am situation, not a date. “Of course. Well…”
“So, I suppose I should get your number?”
“What?” I certainly hadn’t been expecting that one and he clearly hadn’t been expecting my response. He was probably just trying to be courteous. The tabloids were always going on about how nice of a guy he was.
“I, uh, well if you don’t want to…that’s fine…” Rob ran his fingers through his hair.
“No!” I flinched at my own volume and Rob frowned a little. “Ha, sorry.” I knocked on my head. “Hangover.”
“Like I said, three aspirins, the coffee and the Diet Coke—really.” He smiled at me again, relaxing a little.
“But yeah, my number…of course. Have you got your phone on you?”

A simple black cell phone was handed to me and I just looked at it. Did I enter my house phone, or my cell phone? When I met Brett, he specifically asked for my cell phone number. Oh man, it had been three years since I’d given a guy my number. I would have been better off just telling him that I was lesbian.

“Do you know how to use it?”
I looked up at him and nodded, gulping a little. My god, I had probably been sweating bullets standing there staring at the stupid thing. Now, I was just another crazed fan girl to him. I punched in my cell number and thrust it back into his hands.
“Right, well. I’ll talk to you then.” I smiled brightly, trying to make up for my behavior.
“Alright. Well, it was nice meeting you.” Rob thought for a minute. “I guess that’s the appropriate thing to say?” I laughed a little.
“Sure, why not?” I eased up and smiled. “I’m kind of a novice with this.”
“Yeah?” He scratched his neck again, grinning. “Well, I’ve got to get going. Bye Zoey.”
“Bye.” I shut the door and pressed my back against it.

What had I gotten myself into?
Not a minute after Rob disappeared from sight, I ran into Adrienne’s bedroom.
“IendedupinbedwithRobertPattinson!” I couldn’t even wait until she sat up. I just blurted it all out in one long, incoherent string.
“Zoey?” Adrienne sounded a bit confused, as any normal person would be. “Say that again, hun.”
“Ihadsexwiththatguyfromthebar.” No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t slow down. There was a pause before Adrienne spoke; she rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times.
“Do you feel any better?”

That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? Did I feel better after having mind-blowing sex with an incredibly handsome man?

Yes. Yes, I did.

“Yeah, I think so.” I smiled, running a finger over my lips. Despite my raging hangover, my body felt electrified.

“Well good for you.” Adrienne fell back onto her pillows. “Tell me about later, alright? Wait, you’re not going to see him again, are you?”
“He asked for my number, so I might.”
“But you just broke up with Brett. You can’t date.”
“Believe me. The last thing I want to do with a guy is date him.”