You got home with Tommy Miller after a night of partying. You two are total strangers but he won you over with his charisma, and you thought he was cute.

You got to his house, and it quickly heated up, leading to his bedroom. You didn't pay much attention to anything else but him.

Later that night, you snuck out of bed and slipped on one of Tommy's shirts to go get some water from the kitchen. You entered the kitchen, looking for glasses.

"Thirtsy?" A southern voice -though deeper than Tommy's- asks from behind you. You jumped, startled at the sudden sound, and whipped around to face a stranger, wearing pajama pants and a fitted black tee. He's looking at your legs, no shame whatsoever: you remember there's nothing covering them.

You blush, ashamed of the sudden situation, "Huh, I didn't know anyone else lived here," you speak, though your voice is shaky.

"I assumed you didn't with the noises you were makin'," he rumbled, leaning a hip against the counter. You blushed harder at that: he grinned, walking over, before he reached behind you, his chest almost flush against you to get a glass: "If it wasn't good I'm down the hall," he murmured in your ear, before placing the glass in your hand and leaving the kitchen.