Chapter 8

You pretty much groaned yourself awake the next morning, your body feeling disgusting and groggy. You rolled over onto your back, stretching as you moved, flinching when your arm hit the bedside table.

You didn't have a bedside table.

You squinted one eye open, then the other one when you realised that you were not in your bedroom.

You were in Peter's bedroom.

You sat up, straining and struggling as your head pounded, rubbing your eyes and feeling crispy, slept in makeup coming off.

Great.

You pushed the duvet off, pausing as you saw yourself still in your strappy shoes, underwear and a Tshirt you didn't own. Peter's Tshirt.

You awkwardly peeled your shoes off, your veins pulsing as the blood rushed back through your feet. You massaged them a little as you looked round again, spotting a glass of water next to the bed and feeling very, very relieved. You downed it in one, closing your eyes as the delicious coldness flooded through you.

You swung your legs off the bed, then suddenly had a flash of last night play in your head.

The club. What Adam said to you. Coming back here.

Did you really tell Peter that you two should date?!

You remembered being really close to his face. Did you kiss him?

No, you didn't remember kissing him. But you remembered talking about it. And possibly thinking about it. You stood up from the bed and quietly walked to the door, slowly turning the handle and opening it a little. You peeked into the hallway.

You left the bedroom, padding your way to the lounge, with the aim of getting more water and some food.

Peter was sitting up on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.

"Morning." He said, his head turning to you, a soft smile on his face. You froze like a deer in headlights. "You look..."

"Gross?" You offered. "I slept in my makeup apparently."

He stood from the sofa, and you couldn't stop yourself looking him over. He was just in his boxers.

"I think I have some baby wipes." He said as he passed you and headed to the bathroom. You nodded, your exhausted and hungover brain not processing the fact you'd stayed here, that Peter was half naked, and the fact that you'd apparently hit on him last night.

You hurried to the kitchen and got another glass of water, downing it in one before he came back and handed you some wipes. You took them gratefully and pulled one out, immediately scrubbing your face. He stood watching you.

"Umm," You said. "Could you...I mean.." You waved your free hand over his body, hoping he would get the hint.

He looked down at himself.

"Oh yeah. If ...If you do as well." He gestured, and you looked down to realise that his Tshirt wasn't covering a whole lot.

"Right. Uh..do you-"

"I have some sweats." He muttered, disappearing again into his apartment, and reappearing wearing some sweatpants, and holding another pair out for you. You threw your wipe away, and tugged them on.

"So." You breathed. "I made an asshole of myself last night huh?" You said with a slight chuckle at the end. You relaxed once you saw him smile a little, crossing his arms over his chest. Although he wasn't looking you in the eye.

"I wouldn't say asshole. Guess I've just never seen you that drunk before." He explained. You nodded in understanding. "You hungry?"

"Starving."

Peter moved around you, grabbing some sausages out of the fridge and a frying pan out of the drawer. You hopped up onto his counter, chewing your lip as he cooked in silence. The quiet was awkward, and you don't remember if you'd ever felt awkward around Peter before.

You wanted to address this.

"Peter?" You piped up, and he hummed over his shoulder to acknowledge he'd heard you while he cooked. "About last night.."

You saw his shoulders tense slightly.

"I'm sorry." You continued. "I don't remember everything, but I vaguely remembered hitting on you and uh...sorry." You laughed a little, but he didn't turn around. "Peter?"

"It's fine, don't worry about it. You were really drunk, and really angry. I didn't think you were being serious."

You nodded, a bit saddened that he still hadn't turned round, but you concluded that he accepted your apology. He put the spatula down and turned to the fridge, grabbing a carton of orange juice, and walking over to refill your empty glass. He put it beside you, looking up at you, then frowned.

"What?" You asked.

"You uh," He laughed. "You didn't do a very good job with your face."

"This is the only face I have!" You retorted. He shook his head and got out another baby wipe, holding it up.

"Can I?" He asked, and you nodded. He rested one hand on the counter next to your leg, reached his other hand up to your face, gently wiping away what felt like some very wild streaks of leftover make up, mostly on your forehead and your jaw. Guess you didn't do a very good job.

You watched him as he focused on cleaning you up, and you found yourself getting lost in his face again, just like you had last night apparently. His tongue was peeking out over his bottom lip as he concentrated, his eyebrows pinched together ever so slightly. You felt your mouth open slightly as your breath felt heavy in your throat.

His eyes caught yours, his hand movements slowing until it stopped altogether, his hand simply holding the wipe against your cheek, and you were both just staring at each other. The air between you felt thick. You felt like your heart was pumping too loudly. His thumb vaguely grazed your chin.

The sudden spats from the frying pan made you both flinch. He whipped round, seeing the sausages were almost burning, and rushed over to them as he cursed, your little moment completely forgotten. You picked up your glass with a slightly shaky hand and drank the juice deeply, trying to not look at him as he put the sausages onto two plates.

Peter handed you one of the plates and a fork, also avoiding your gaze, and you muttered a thanks to him. You ate in silence. Although a lot of being quiet was because the sausages were so fucking good that you just wolfed them down.

You heard a phone buzzing. You frowned at Peter, who got his out of his pocket and held it up to signal that it wasn't him. You chugged the rest of your juice, then put your plate down and hopped off the counter, following the noise to the coffee table where your bag was resting. You got your phone out and saw it was Adam calling.

You felt your heart thud.

"Hey," You said, as cheerily as you could once you answered.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked. You looked up at Peter who was frowning at you.

"Yeah, Adam." You replied, saying his name with a pointed tone. You thought you saw Peter roll his eyes.

"Where did you go last night? Are you home?"

You felt a little angry that he clearly didn't even remember what he said to you last night. Or he was acting like he didn't.

"I'm not home. I'm at..." You caught Peter's eyes again. "Ruby's. Heading home soon though." Peter didn't look away from you.

"Oh good. I'm so hungover I don't even know what I drank." He laughed on the other end, and you barely laughed in return, finally breaking your gaze from Peter.

"Well I should get ready to leave..Ruby's."

"Are you coming over today?" He asked, and you paused. He hadn't asked you that in a while. The fact that you were right next door made you feel slightly uneasy, but he would never know. You knew he wouldn't be able to hear you speaking to him through the walls, because these apartments were relatively well built. The only things you could hear from other apartments were insanely loud music, or if they straight up banged on the walls.

"Uh, no, I don't feel great. Just gonna stay at mine and catch up on some movies."

"Okay babe, speak to you later. Love you."

"Bye."

You hung up, before realising that you hadn't said it back. Peter was still watching you, his arms now folded over his chest.

"I need to go." You said, making him nod. "Have a shower and uhh...get changed and stuff."

"Yeah, of course. Want me to drive you?"

"No!" You said too quickly. "No, it's fine. You look like you have a day off, I can get an Uber." He nodded as you headed back to his bedroom to gather up your things - your shoes, your dress, and your bag from the coffee table.

"I called you an Uber, should be outside in a couple minutes." He said, holding his phone up.

"Thanks. And uhh, thanks for last night, letting me crash and stuff."

"Yeah. Anytime."

The awkward quiet returned. You couldn't deal with this while you were hungover, so you just muttered a 'see you later' and headed out.

It felt like you and Peter had a one night stand. That's how stilted it was between you. Like you were strangers and you woke up after having drunk sex together. None of that had happened, so why were you both being so weird?

Something was happening. These weird little 'things' were happening more. You'd never had them before. Had you? Or had you just not noticed?

You found yourself thinking that you'd almost wished he'd kissed you.

You shook your head, as if the thought would also shake out of your brain. All it did was give you a headache.

You needed to speak to Ruby.

You told the Uber driver to go to hers.