Alex~
My mouth tastes like bad decisions and vodka-laced regret.
I wake up groggy, my head pounding like a broken drum set after a rock concert. The room is dim, sun barely sneaking through the window blinds. My throat feels like sandpaper, and the only movement I can muster is a groan as I roll over—and instantly regret it. Every part of my body aches.
I blink hard, trying to place myself in the room. I'm in bed—my bed, thankfully—but still wearing only my boxers. My jeans are tossed carelessly across the floor, belt twisted. My shirt is nowhere in sight.
Great.
I sit up, head still spinning, and that's when I hear it.
A voice. Seth's voice.
It's low and unusually soft. Not the usual cocky or loud-mouthed tone he uses when mocking me or trying to make everyone in the room aware of his existence.
This voice is careful. Vulnerable.
I know I shouldn't be listening, but I stay frozen.
"I don't care what the doctors say, Ma. You should've called me earlier," Seth says, his voice tight, strained in a way I've never heard before.
There's a pause. Then softer, "She's just a kid. Why would they let it get that bad before saying anything?"
"Tell her I'll call after my 11AM. Just—hold her hand, okay? Even if she acts like she doesn't want it. You know how she is."
Guilt pinches at my gut for how I've been thinking about him. He's not all smirks and suggestive whispers. There's something else under all that swagger. Something real.
I roll over with a groan and accidentally knock over a can of soda from last night.
"Shit," I mutter, scrambling up, shirtless and barely in my boxers.
The door creaks open just as I'm wiping my hand on the couch throw.
He sees me. I see him. His brow lifts in that signature amused tilt like he's always catching me doing something I shouldn't.
"Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty." The cockiness in his tone is back.
I grunt in response, too hungover to form words.
I roll my eyes, but can't fight the heat crawling up my neck. "I need water," I manage to mutter, brushing past him and shuffle toward the kitchen
He follows behind watching me with amused eyes, but there's something else there. A pause. A shift.
"I gotta say," he says slowly, "you really don't know how to hide anything, do you?"
I blink at him, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Seth leans against the counter, sipping his juice. "Your thoughts are all over your face. I can practically see you trying to figure out whether I'm a total douche or just a half-decent one."
I shrug, grabbing a glass and filling it. "Maybe I'm reconsidering."
He grins. "Progress."
And then, unexpectedly, he steps closer.
I freeze, the glass half-raised to my lips.
"You know," he says, voice quieter now, "you're not bad to look at either. Kind of a shame you're always acting like someone shoved a stick up your ass."
I choke on my water, sputtering. "Jesus, Seth."
He chuckles. "Just saying."
There's a pause. A weight in the air.
Then—god help me—I decide to play along.
I take a step closer, heart thudding hard in my chest. "Is that your way of flirting with me? Because if so, it's terrible."
He smirks, but something flickers in his eyes—interest. Real interest.
"Maybe," he says, tilting his head. "Or maybe I'm just trying to figure out why someone with a girl like Tracey can't get it up."
My breath catches.
It feels like the room gets hotter instantly. "You—what?"
Seth gives me a look. "Don't give me that look. You told me yourself ."
My mouth drops. "I—what?"
"You came home drunk last night, remember?" Seth leans back, clearly enjoying this. "Started talking to the kitchen counter. Something about how Tracey deserves better and how your 'dick betrayed you in your hour of need.'"
"Oh my God." Shame hits me like a sledgehammer. I pull back, heart twisting in my chest. "That's none of your business."
Seth raises both hands, palms out. "Relax. I'm not judging you. I've been there. Nerves mess people up. Especially the first time."
That last sentence hits me square in the gut.
"Wait… you know?"
He raises a brow. "You're a virgin, right?"
I open my mouth. Close it. Then curse under my breath. "You're an asshole." Had I also manage to gift him that information last night?
"Guilty." He laughs. "But seriously, it's not a big deal. I was too, once."
"Yeah, and then you decided to become sex on legs for the rest of us to suffer through."
Seth gives me a sly grin. "Took practice. You could always ask me for a few pointers."
I blink. "You're joking."
He steps closer. "Am I?"
There's barely a sliver of space between us. I'm pressed against the edge of the counter, and he's standing in front of me with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
One wrong move and I'll either headbutt him or kiss him.
I don't know which is worse.
"You—you're messing with me." I stutter.
He shrugs. "Maybe. But I also think you're curious."
"I have a girlfriend."
He leans in, lips dangerously close to my ear. "And yet you're still hard from me being in your space."
I gasp. Not because he's right—but because his thigh brushes between mine, and suddenly, everything is very real.
My face burns.
"Fuck," I mutter, stepping back and trying to hide the growing evidence in my boxers.
Seth laughs, backing off just enough to let me breathe. "Relax. I won't bite—unless you ask."
"You're impossible."
"You're flustered."
I grab the glass again, just to give my hands something to do. "This is not normal." I wince afterwards realizing how I must sound to him.
"So?"
"So…" I try for another reason. "Tracey."
Seth's smile falters.
"What about her?"
I hesitate. There's a million questions I want to ask starting with what the hell is going on between them. But I can't bring myself to say it. I can't look like the jealous boyfriend. I don't even know if I'm jealous of Tracey or of him.
"Nothing," I lie. "Forget it."
Seth eyes me, but lets it slide. "Alright, virgin boy. Go take a shower. You smell like beer and shame."
I flip him off and storm back to the room, but not before catching one last glance over my shoulder.
He's still watching me.
And for the first time, I don't hate it.