You woke up in a strange bed, the sunlight filtering through sheer curtains and illuminating the unfamiliar room. The faint smell of cologne lingered in the air, mingling with a hint of smoke and something else you couldn’t quite place. Your head throbbed slightly, a reminder of the cocktails you’d downed the night before, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your own impulsiveness.

As you shifted beneath the covers, trying to piece together the fragments of last night, you realized you couldn’t even remember the guy's name. Just a vague memory of laughter, flirtation, and the thrill of spontaneity. You recalled the way he had leaned in close at the bar, his smile disarming, those sharp cheekbones accentuating his rugged charm. He was undeniably hot, but at the moment, all you felt was a mix of embarrassment and confusion.

With a groggy sigh, you turned to the side, half-expecting to see him sprawled out next to you. But the bed was empty. Just as you began to wonder where he was, the bathroom door swung open, and he stepped into the room, a towel draped low on his hips, droplets of water glistening on his chest. He wore a fitted grey t-shirt that clung to his body, accentuating his toned frame, and your heart raced despite your better judgment.

“What's up, fire?” he said, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“Fire?” You raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. The playful nickname caught you off guard.

“Yeah, 'cause you were on fire last night,” he replied, leaning against the doorframe with an air of casual confidence. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth spread through you.