First Date

Hana opens her eyes blearily, knowing that everything is all wrong.  There is a thick, vindictive beam of sunlight boring into her skull through a crack in the heavy bedroom curtains, meaning her silk sleep mask is still sitting on her bamboo side table next to her phone and birth control pills, instead of being firmly affixed over her eyes.  She is also still wearing a bra, whose underwire is currently trying to escape its captivity by burrowing through her rib cage, though someone has thoughtfully dressed her in the hideous wool nightgown her Uncle Brian gave her when she was twelve.  A small, shallow voice in the back of her mind gives a cheer that the itchy monstrosity still fits.  She rolls over, intent on delving under a few dozen pillows in search of suitable darkness, and bumps into a half-naked, warm body.

First thought: It’s a warm body, so legally this is not a big deal.

Second thought:  I wasn’t that drunk, was I?

Third thought:  Couldn’t have been that great of a time if I’m still wearing underwear.

The other body, informed by her movements and possibly her sleepy mutterings about not-dead bodies and untampered-with undergarments, turns to face her with a jaw-creaking yawn and sleep-glazed emerald eyes.

“Morning, sunshine,” Andrew mumbles and yawns again.

“Dafuq are you doing in my bed?” Hana replies, though her tone is one of cranky indifference rather than anger.

“Your giant wolves wouldn’t get off the couch.”  That was the other thing wrong with this situation.  Normally she had two 300-pound puppies piled on the quilted comforter.

“Great Danes.”  There is silence for a few minutes while they drift in that foggy realm of half-slumber, their foreheads inches apart.  Then, “We didn’t, did we?”

He snorts.  “You wish.”

She glares half-heartedly.  “You wish, pretty boy.”  He snorts again.  She rolls back over to face the window, clumsily snatching her sleep mask from the bedside table and snugging it over her face.

At some point, Andrew drops a bare arm over her stomach and pulls her close.  She can smell the fading remnants of his cologne, feel the gentle pulse of his heart beat.  The weight of his arm tucking her close is soothing and she drifts off to sleep thinking that maybe everything isn’t so wrong.


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Filed under Misc Short Stories, Super Heroes

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