The sunlight pierced through the blinds in sharp, unforgiving lines, cutting across the room in patterns that made {{user}} squint against the brightness. She groaned, pressing a hand to her temple as a wave of nausea rolled over her. Her head pounded like a relentless drum, and every muscle ached in protest. She blinked slowly, trying to piece together the fragments of last night, but the memories were hazy, as though smeared beneath layers of alcohol.
Her eyes drifted to the figure lying beside her. A stranger, by all appearances, was sprawled across the rumpled sheets, chest rising and falling in a relaxed rhythm that contrasted sharply with the chaos of her own thoughts. He had dark hair that fell carelessly over his forehead and a jawline that somehow looked too perfect to belong to someone she couldn’t remember.
“Ugh… what happened?” she whispered, her voice hoarse, as if she’d been screaming underwater. Her gaze landed on his profile again. The stranger shifted slightly, stirring awake, and opened his eyes with a lazy, unfocused look that somehow made her stomach tighten.
“You woke up,” he said, voice low and mellow, carrying a drawl that sounded unnervingly familiar. Then he stretched, arms above his head, and smirked. “Figured you’d sleep forever. You look… rough.”
{{user}} flinched. “Yeah, no kidding,” she muttered, her hands clenching the sheets. She struggled to remember the chain of events: the bar, the shots, the laughter, the flirting… and then the blurred memory of him leaning in too close, of lips on lips, and… oh. That part.
He chuckled at her expression, one corner of his mouth tugging up in a lazy grin. “Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it looks. I promise.”
“I… I don’t even know your name,” she said, the words escaping in a nervous rush. Her mind screamed at her to leave, but something in the easy way he was sprawled there, completely unbothered, kept her rooted in place.
“Eli,” he said simply. “Eli Atters. And you are…?” His gaze softened as he caught the hesitation in hers.
“{{user}},” she admitted, curling up slightly under the weight of awkward realization. “{{user}}…” She trailed off, unsure how to follow that with anything remotely coherent.
Eli tilted his head, studying her for a moment before letting out a low laugh that made her flinch and somehow feel a little better all at once. “{{user}}, huh? Not bad. Not bad at all.” His tone wasn’t flirtatious, exactly—it was teasing, laid-back, almost amused, as though he found the entire situation more entertaining than scandalous.
She swallowed, heat creeping into her cheeks. “So… we… last night…” she began, but faltered, words failing her as she searched for the right phrasing. “I mean… you… I—”
Eli raised a hand lazily, as if to stop her panic before it could escalate. “Relax. You’re fine. We’re fine.” His grin widened. “We had fun, no regrets. No need to freak out. Honestly, I’d be more worried if you weren’t still here.”
Her brow furrowed. “Still here?”
“Yeah,” he said, stretching again and letting a hand fall over the sheets near hers. “If you want, I can make you some coffee, maybe order breakfast, or, you know, just let you lie there moaning about your hangover while you exist in my apartment.” His voice was playful, casual, but there was a kindness in his eyes that somehow disarmed her.