Courtney M Laughery

Emily rolled onto her side with a guttural groan and the pull of unfamiliar sheets immediately drew her back to her current surroundings. Her eyes flew open reflexively but Riley’s bed was empty except for the handwritten note perched lightly on the pillow beside her. The rush of emotion that flooded her nervous system was a confusing blend of equal parts relief and disappointment. This was the first time that they had spent the night together, and the truth was that it felt a little bit empty to wake up alone in his bed – like maybe sleeping over meant less to him than she had assumed. While that nauseating thought pricked at her insecurity and she was tempted to be embarrassed by her actions the night before, the bigger truth was that Emily felt incredibly grateful for the fact that Riley was not at this moment bearing witness to all of her slightly hungover morning-after glory.

She plucked the note from its position:

Good morning,
Working out in the garage
Toothbrush and fresh towels are on the counter
Coffee on the island 😉
Please don’t disappear
❤ R

She carefully set the note back on the pillow and swung her legs over the side of the bed, a huge grin tugging at her dehydrated and still made-up face. Crap! When she threw the down blanket off of her lap and Juno’s head popped up from her plush doggy bed on the floor Emily squeaked, “From one pretty girl to another, you never saw me like this!” Juno just dropped her sleepy head back to the floor.

Hauling herself out of Riley’s bed, Emily wandered into the bathroom where there was in fact a brand new toothbrush still in its package on top of two neatly folded cotton towels beside the far sink. She decided not to wonder if or why Riley had a stash of disposable toothbrushes somewhere in his bathroom and instead gratefully used it to erase her horrific wine breath. As she scrubbed away the chianti and kisses from the previous night her thick black eyeliner, now caked into the creases of her eyelids and staining her eye gunk black, glared back at her. Shit shit shit. Getting all dolled up for a birthday night out was fun when you knew you would be following your regularly scheduled evening skincare routine, but after passing out in someone else’s bed very late into the night all she could see in the mirror was a scary mask of potential acne and remorse.

As unease soured the pit of her stomach Emily wanted to blame the nervous feelings on the fact that she and Phaedra had religiously maintained the elaborate bedtime skincare regimen long ago established by Emily’s mom, but she knew the problem was more to do with the fact that Emily had never spontaneously spent the night with a guy. Now here she was alone, using a borrowed drugstore toothbrush, panicking about her thirty-year-old face and feeling woefully unprepared to deal. 

At eighteen Emily was afraid to go to college as a virgin so she and the neighbor boy – God bless Tommy Marsh – had made a pact. The handful of times that they had made good on that pact Emily always climbed back in through her own bedroom window before her mom could notice her absence. Then she married Joel at twenty-one. Of course there had been a fair number of twin-sized dorm-room beds in the year and a half that they dated but those nights had always happened on purpose, with an overnight bag and expectations. A relationship. Now Emily stood in Riley’s immaculate bathroom in a t-shirt and nothing else without the benefit of her gentle oil cleanser, hyaluronic serum, night cream, eye cream or the knowledge of what comes next. What the heck are you doing?

Frowning at her own raccoon eyes Emily contemplated how bad her skin might react to bar soap versus the level of humiliation it would cost her for mega pop-star Riley Campbell to be the only man who had ever witnessed this mess. After a brief hesitation she decided to risk the long term breakout for short term sanity and with a whispered, “Sorry,” she quickly washed away the evidence of her birthday night with the clean bar of soap next to Riley’s own very permanent looking toothbrush. After a quick rifle through his top drawer she found a pot of La Mer face cream and silently raised a prayer of thanks to whoever insisted that Riley take care of his skin – probably Rebecca.

Minutes later Emily stepped into the kitchen to find Riley standing at the wide island in low slung exercise shorts and nothing else — Damn — drinking a protein smoothie and typing something into his phone with big noise canceling headphones over his ears. He hummed as he typed and when he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye Riley’s entire face split into one of those dazzling smiles. This one felt real, bright and full and unpracticed. A little lopsided and reaching all the way to his soft mossy eyes. Riley set down his phone and smoothie, and pulled the headphones down around his neck where she caught the glint of those two gold chains. Emily’s chest, neck and ears went hot.

“Hey,” Riley noted her outfit with an approving scan from bedhead to bare toes.

“I figured better late than never, right?” Emily tried to tease but instead ended up swinging her arms somewhat awkwardly at her sides to emphasize the garment covering her torso. Her hands disappeared inside the sleeves of his blue wool sweater. The one embroidered with fluffy clouds and a single happy little lamb. After she had slipped her black satin dress back over her head and gave up the search for her missing thong Emily noticed the familiar cardigan slung over a chair in the corner of Riley’s bedroom. “It seemed like it was calling to me just laying out there like that,” she shrugged.

Angling his body to better face her Riley leaned against the island with one hip and took a sip of his smoothie. This new grin was smug and satisfied and Emily suddenly wondered if she had fallen into some kind of trap. As he stretched a steaming mug of black coffee toward her Riley said, “You in that sweater was inevitable.” 

“Did you do this on purpose?” her brows shot toward her bangs as she reached automatically for the offered drink.

“No, but I wish I had thought to. I wore it last night for dinner and despite my many excellent qualities I am extremely lazy about laundry.”

Ah, there it is. An opportunity. Emily grounded herself with a long inhale of the coffee’s life-giving aroma deep into her lungs and mirrored Riley’s cocky body language by leaning one hip against the counter. He was so gorgeous and nearly naked and so good at flirting with her that she couldn’t really even tell if he was, except that she kept wanting to smile like a Labrador retriever being presented with a new ball and she needed to even the playing field a bit. “Wow, so much to unpack there,” she leaned on her elbows and blew at the hot steam rising from her mug. “Do I want you to explain which qualities you believe to be excellent first, or do I want to hear about how laundry is yet another ‘normie’ thing you never learned to do?”

Riley rolled his eyes at the dig but his features remained amused as he set his empty smoothie glass into the sink then walked around the island to stand directly beside Emily, crowding her mug. His taught chest and abs were still flushed from his work out and covered in a slight sheen of sweat. All of a sudden her borrowed cardigan was way too hot. Right, hot coffee. Taking the excuse to drag her gaze away from the hard V near his waistband that was currently making eye contact with her, Emily gulped her too hot coffee and stood up straight. Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes as the liquid burned its way down her throat but Emily refused to cough.

Now his smug smirk was all too knowing and once again Riley had the upper hand, “I know how to do laundry. I don’t have to very often, but I am able to. This,” he plucked at the shoulder of the sweater currently draped over her like a blanket of fiberglass insulation, “is not washable, though, remember? What I meant was I have a bad habit of leaving my clothes laying around instead of putting them away. And as for excellence, I may have overstated. The only thing I am truly excellent at is music.”

It was time to go. Flustered and hot and self-conscious and horny, Emily knew when to throw in the proverbial towel and it was time to get home and back to some sense of control. She finished her coffee and pulled herself together enough to rib him one last time, “Okay Mozart, as fun as this little morning after banter business is going, you are one article of clothing away from completely naked and I need to go home and take a shower. Think you can put a shirt on and give me a ride?”

As though wounded by her words Riley placed a bear paw of a palm across his broad, bare chest, “Although it pains me to do so, yes, I will put on a shirt. And I can take you home.” With a wink he disappeared up the stairs, taking them two at a time and leaving Emily to pull her boots on in the foyer. When he returned Riley wore a pair of soft fitted jeans and a ridiculous but — Emily reluctantly admitted to herself — comfortable looking Balenciaga hoodie.