My mind was in overdrive; the new, crazy thoughts running through it pummelled me with their ferocity.

Velvet.

I wanted her.

Again.

Already.

Fuck, I’d hardly finished with this orgasm, and I already wanted more.

Before I could say anything, her eyes closed and I knew she was almost asleep. I gently pulled out of her and moved so I could lay her legs on the bed before getting up and dealing with the condom. She moaned softly as I left the bed, but she didn’t open her eyes. I watched her for a moment before heading into the bathroom.

Christ, what the fuck had we done?

I disposed of the condom and eyed myself in the mirror. What an idiot I’d been to think that one night with Velvet would be enough. And what the hell was she going to say when she woke up with a hangover and a bad case of regret in the morning?

Fuck.

Chapter 9

Mr Brightside ~ The Killers

––––––––

Velvet

My mouth was dry and my head ached. I opened my eyes and groaned in pain as the light hit me. My hand flew to my head; the pain was excruciating.

I hadn’t had a hangover in a long time, and it came back to me in a rush why I didn't drink to extremes anymore. I slowly sat up and cursed myself as the nausea hit me in waves. Shit, I was going to vomit. I lurched out of the bed, and it was at that moment that I realised I wasn’t in my own bed.

I was at Nash’s house and I didn’t know where the bathroom was. Didn’t matter; I’d find it.

Five minutes later I’d found the bathroom and emptied my stomach of it’s contents. I dragged myself back to the bed and laid down. The energy it took to vomit wiped me out and sleep claimed me again.

***

When I came to, I still felt awful but at least the nausea was gone. As I slowly sat up, I assessed my surroundings. Nash’s bedroom was painted in a hushed grey; very masculine. There was no clutter in here, just the bed, bedside tables and a wood chest of drawers. He had one painting on the wall above the bed; some abstract swirl of reds, oranges and black. It didn’t make any sense to me, but then again, I figured art was subjective and it must have meant something to him.

As I examined his room, I wondered where he was. The house was silent and I briefly considered that he actually wasn’t here. My heart sank at that thought. And then I wondered where the hell that thought had come from.

Shit.

It had just been sex for goodness sake. I may have been drunk, but I vaguely remembered him hesitating to sleep with me, and I also remembered that I’d forced him into it. Well, to say I forced him might have been exaggerating a little; Nash never needed forcing into sex. But what the hell did it mean for our friendship now? If he wasn’t here, did it mean he was avoiding me? And why was I upset at the thought that he wasn’t here?

Shit.

I pushed the bedspread back, got out of bed and went in search of him. As I padded through the house, I smiled at the simplicity of his surroundings. I liked simplicity and little clutter too. He had the bare basics with only a tiny amount of decoration, and his walls were painted white. I loved the cleanliness of white. I also loved the few plants I saw scattered through his house. It all surprised me.

Nash wasn’t here. I looked through the whole house and didn’t find him. But I did find a note on the kitchen bench that told me to make myself at home and that he’d gone into work. My heart warmed a little at that but it was still heavy with the worry that he was dodging me.

Deciding that I actually wanted to get the hell out of here, I made my way back to the bedroom and got dressed. Christ, I hadn’t made the walk of shame in a long time having given up one night stands awhile ago. I called a cab and waited for them to take me away from the scene of what I hoped wouldn’t be the end of my friendship with Nash.

***

I stepped out of the shower. My body was clean but the regret still clung to my soul. Why had I been so dumb to sleep with Nash and think it wouldn’t affect our friendship. The friendship we’d just patched back together.

I’d texted him just after I left his house to let him know I was gone. That was an hour ago and I still hadn’t heard back from him. I didn’t expect much, but I at least expected a reply.

Sighing, I got dressed for work. I had to be there in a couple of hours, but first I was going for a coffee with my sister. She’d just broken up with her boyfriend of five years and was struggling to deal with it, so I was making the effort to be there for her. We hadn’t always been close but we were now after a lot of hard work on both our behalf’s, and I was dedicated to nurturing that relationship.

I checked my phone again as I left the house and shoved it back in my bag in disappointment when I saw there was still no message from Nash.

***

“What’s wrong with you?” Anna enquired after she took a sip of coffee.

My sister was very perceptive and even though I’d tried to mask my feelings, she’d picked up on them. “I slept with Nash last night.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” She knew that I’d fobbed him off for years because I wanted to maintain our friendship rather than risk it by having sex with him.

“I was drunk, horny and mad.”

Her forehead crinkled in confusion. “You slept with him because you were mad at him?”

Sighing, I explained, “No, I was mad at James for coming back into my life and screwing with me so I went out and got drunk, and then Nash turned up and I couldn’t resist him any longer.”