This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have slept with your coworker. The coworker who came to work with specks of dog hair on him. The coworker who was so linguistically spoken. The coworker who was now passed out behind you, an arm on your waist.

It was supposed to be a hangout for drinks. As friends. But one thing led to another and now you’re left bare and pressed against his bare body, trapped by a singular arm.

Co workers don’t sleep with each other.