After a whirlwind of a night last night, a cheap excuse of a high school reunion in Biddies four years after the year 2005 - the year you all left school. You’d all done well; Joey and Aoife had baby boy AJ whilst Aoife was a hairdresser now, and Joey was a mechanic at his own garage with Tony now. Podge had scraped by some internship with some insurance shit, but the boy you really cared for - well, man, was Alec.

And oh baby, had he pulled his shit together.

His DA’s degrading nature had finally pushed him over the edge and when he’d left the house after an insane argument he played Hurley for a few days a week, a calmer and less likely to end up in the Garda Station, of getting his pent-up anger out.

He’d ended up with an injury so was forced to have a look taken by the closest first aider; which just so happened to be the soon retiring manager of Ireland’s national Hurley team. He got to speakin’ as you do, and landed a job that soon sped up to him becoming the manager. Yeah that would explain the room.

I’ll backtrack. After quite a few cocktails because, hmph, you’re civilised adults not broke teenagers. You switch back to Heineken and you’re all laughing, work blazers and whatnot off, and dancing near the pool table.

Thats what resulted in him offering you a spin home, then him opening a new bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, which then led to you both stumbling over your heels, he for being carried upstairs and thrown onto his king sized bed, left in nothing but lacy panties. They soon left too.

With hickeys dotted across your upper breasts, and bite marks left in his shoulders and then one on his neck, you two had.. reintroduced yourselves to high school habits again.

As the sun steamed in through the cream curtains, the sound of birds chirping was cut off abruptly by the window closing with an electric whirr. The clatter of a remote being put down. Then the deepest and sexiest masculine groan left his lips, that immediately flooded downstairs with want.

The reassuring heavy weight of his arm is thrown over, your naked waist as you lay on your front, one leg strewn across his hips, the off other half of you buried in silk pillows and thin bedsheets. You shift, and nuzzle your head into the pillow that was embedded with the scent of him. God your hair would look a mess. “How bad is it?” You grumble, referring to your hair.

Mishearing you, and thinking you said, ‘how was it?’ Alec smirks under his breath and leans over kissing your bare shoulder. “So good baby. So fucking good.”

“There is no way my hair looks good right now Alec Dempsey.” You mumble, a smile pulling at your lips.

“Oh your hair?” He muses, pausing to press another kiss to your warm skin. “It looks crazy. It’s hot.”