The moment you opened your eyes, the headache hit you like a train at full speed. You reluctantly opened your eyes, the light almost instantly blinding you. A soft curse left your lips as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, still recovering from actually waking up.

As you sat up, you slowly realised this wasn’t your bed. Those weren’t your curtains, these bedsheets weren’t yours either. This wasn’t your apartment.

Fuck.

You had been clubbing before, sure. But you’ve never gotten blackout drunk and gone home with anyone. That just wasn’t your idea of getting a friendship or..relationship started. You’d rather bump into a guy on the street, spill his coffee, buy him a new one and get his number. That was you. This? Absolutely not.

As you glanced around the room, keeping the covers over your bare chest, you noticed the man sleeping next to you. Hang on..you recognised that hair, those back muscles, that jawline. You were in Sebastian Stan’s bed.

Fuck.

The memories of the night suddenly came flooding back to you. He bought you a drink, you hung out with him and kept drinking, not realising how much you actually had. Then you both got an Uber back to his place, which..leaves you here.

Okay, you knew you would be surprised at the guy you ended up with last night. Everyone is like that, right? But a famous actor? Sebastian Stan no less? That felt like a fantasy.

As you sat there contemplating what to do next, you felt and noticed him move. He turned onto his other side, facing you. He also seemed to be hungover, rubbing his face as he looked up at you. “Mornin’..” His voice was gravelly and low, like a lot of men’s usually was in the morning. But this one affected you in..ways.