Palmer
My eyes open.
I look around the small, dark bedroom. Nothing is familiar. Not the tight space, not the glow-in-the-dark clock in the shape of a moon on the nightstand, not the carpet, not even the floral-print comforters ... that I also happen to be butt ass naked under, I think as I peer down at my body.
And then it hits me. It really sinks in.
I remember that I'm not home.
I remember the food … that secret recipe, and the sex … Nicole.
What the fuck am I doing here? I drag my fingers through my hair, pulling it back from my temples. I rub my eyes, as if to make sure this isn't just all a dream, and then press my fingers against my forehead. This isn't like me at all, to be sleeping with some girl in a shitty apartment, in a shitty part of town. I'm slipping. I've gotta get a hold of myself.
I have a goal, and I can't afford to get derailed now.
I need to get out of here. There's no telling where my clothes are, or my wallet, or my keys, or my phone … but I don't want to wake Nicole up, so I'm going to have to feel my way through the dark.
This place isn't that big. My stuff has to be close by.
I carefully slip my feet out of the comforter, and swing my legs off the bed. I stand up, my body stark naked, with the darkness as my only cover. I don't see my clothes, so I shuffle my feet against the carpet, hoping to walk into them.
But there's nothing.
So I get down on all fours, and picture what I must look like if someone where able to see me.
Ridiculous. I feel like a kid going behind his parents' back and sneaking out of the house or something … and I guess that's partially true.
I'm trying to sneak out of this apartment.
I look over at the bed, to make sure Nicole is still sleeping. Luckily, she is.
I continue to feel along the carpet, and then I find my suit pants and boxers.
Thank God. I slip them on. The room is so quiet that the sound of the fabric seems irrationally louder than I know it is, and I cringe as I pull them on and zip them up.
Fuck. I still need my keys, phone, wallet, shirt, shoes … okay, think, think, think, I tell myself.
When did I last see my things?
Last night was such a blur, I honestly can't remember.
There was food. There was wine. And things escalated from there.
There was sex. Great fucking sex.
But I can't think about that right now.
I've gotta get—
Just then, my thoughts are cut short when I see two amber eyes peering at me from the darkness.
I walk over and see that it's Nicole's cat, Whiskers, and underneath the cat is my coat, shirt, wallet, and keys.
I walk over, and try to shoo the cat off my things but it doesn't budge.
Move, scram cat. I need these things more than you do.
Meeeooww.
The cat voices back its disdain before jumping away. Even in the darkness, I can see cat hair all over my coat and shirt, and I try, with as much quiet as I can muster, to brush it off.
But it's no use. I'll need to get these items dry-cleaned.
I slip my shirt and coat on, and then, as soon as I turn around to look for my shoes, they find me.
I trip and stumble into the bedside table, almost knocking over the moon-shaped clock. It teeters on its edges before finally settling back into place.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Seriously? Fuck my life right now.
Thankfully, Nicole still hasn't moved. At least I can still get out of here without her knowing. This'll be less a walk of shame, and more an act of Houdini.
I slip my feet into my shoes, hoping on one foot, and then the other. The cat eyes me from the corner of the room, as if mocking me with its orange orbs.
Stop that, I whisper. But Whiskers refuses to look away.
If it could laugh me right out of this room, I'm sure it would.
I shove my hands in my pockets and look for my phone. Shit. It's not there.
I pad my suit pockets—the two exterior, and two interior pockets—but there's still no phone.
Then I see it out of the corner of my eye—a sliver of light bouncing off the glass of the phone's screen. It's on the chair next to the bed. I grab it and slip it into the pocket of my suit pants.
Finally. I have everything I need to make an exit and leave this place.
I take a few steps, heading toward the door, but I have a sudden urge to turn around and look back at Nicole. To look at her one last time before leaving.
When I do, I see the silhouette a perfect woman lying there. The bed sheets are pulled just below her breasts, and they're exposed. It takes everything in me to not slide back into that bed, and take her soft, warm body into my hands.
To run my tongue across her nipples and pinch them between my teeth.
I shake my head in disbelief. I've been with plenty of women in my life, but Nicole is different. When she's near, the rest of the world melts away. The maddening rush of the world seems to stop. It's almost unreal how one woman can be so … hot … and so fucking perfect … and have such mind-blowing sex.
It's a shame, I whisper, shaking my head again.
But I can't have any distractions in my life right now.
The clock is ticking.
And I have a restaurant to run.