Dafuq?
How is that even possible?
“Uh, just a second.”
After pulling my jeans on and straightening my cami, I search and fail to find a mirror as the knocking resumes. Wincing at the thrum starting in my head, I embrace defeat and open the door.
Easton stands on the other side looking mouthwatering, hair darker probably due to a recent shower, two coffees in hand. His lips stretch into a smile as he extends one toward me in offering.
“Thanks, and don’t bother saying it. I’m sure I look like a freshly drowned rat.”
“Actually, I was wondering if you plan on sitting on your tuffet today, Miss Muffet.”
“Huh?” I wince, his words not registering as he scans my room, his eyes landing on my discarded panties before pinning me.
“While eating your curds and whey.” He lifts his chin, and it’s then I realize I may have mismanaged undressing, but I did manage to put my silk bonnet on.
Oh, fuck you, Grey Goose.
“Har, har,” I say before darting into the bathroom and seeing I also managed to take exactly half my makeup off with a remover wipe. Desperately trying to pull myself together, I scrub my teeth and start to clear the debris off the other half of my face while briefly going over the events of last night, heavily regretting the excessive vodka intake.
“Sorry I got a little buzzed last night,” I call out through the cracked door. “I haven’t let loose in a while.”
“You were a real animal. In bed by one fifteen,” he says, his tone indecipherable.
I eye the time on my cell phone where it sits on the counter. “Is everyone waiting on me?”
“No. We pull out in thirty. I was sure you would oversleep.”
My alarm goes off at that exact moment, and I hold it out of the bathroom for his view along with a middle finger and hear his chuckle in response.
“So, what’s with the action cap?” He asks from behind the door.
“If you must know—”
“I must.”
“It’s to keep my curls in decent shape.”
“Thought you hated them,” he jabs.
“I’ve recently reembraced them.”
Fresh-faced and feeling slightly better about my appearance, I open the door to find him sitting on the edge of my slightly rumpled bed. A smart quip dies on my tongue as I fully take him in. A black titanium cross dangles from his neck and peeks above the collar of his dark blue T-shirt which clings to his build in all the right places. Light denim jeans accentuate his muscular thighs tapering down to well-worn, dark leather boots. As if that wasn’t enough, inch-thick leather cuffs are secured by large silver snaps around his wrists, along with the titanium thumb ring and tiger’s eye pinkie ring he wore the day we met, making him look every bit the rock star he is. I feel his perusal as I pluck my tablet from the bed and begin to scroll.
“Well, do you want the good news or the bad news?”
“No news,” he clips, sipping his coffee.
“Tough shit, and it looks like all good news anyway.” I clear my throat. “And I quote, ‘REVERB blew fans away last night at the Civic Center during an eighty-three-minute set, cementing themselves as the act to see this summer and securing their place amongst this year’s top performers. I’m here to tell you to believe the hype because Crowne’s stage presence and delivery alone is worth the price of admission.’ I agree,” I declare, continuing my search and peeking over my tablet to see he’s completely unaffected.
“Ah, here’s another. ‘REVERB, specifically Easton Crowne are single-handedly giving mouth-to-mouth to a genre that seems to have been long forgotten, reviving Rock ‘n’ Roll one show at a time.”
“Please stop,” he says before I again lower my tablet.
“Why?”
“Because in about an hour, my mother will call and attempt to read me the same reviews.”
“Really?” I grin. “Stella does that? I love it!”
“Yeah, and I hate it when she does it too, so don’t take it personally.”
I take a sip of my coffee and gag, and he chuckles at my reaction to it.
“What the hell is in this, nitro?”
“Drink it and say thank you.”
“Geesh, thank you.” I take a seat next to him on the edge of the bed and nudge him. “Why are you so grumpy this morning? I’m the one with cymbal crashes going on between my ears.”
“Oh, yeah,” he stands, and I take immediate advantage of the view, my eyes focusing on the natural bulge at his crotch and drifting up to the dark hair partially covering his face as he dips into his pocket before producing a pack of Advil. “Got these for you downstairs, too.”