Worst One Night Stand Ever. 1.

Chapter 1

Gwen cracked her eye open and groaned. If she were a morning person, the light coming in would be described as beautiful or heavenly. However, for Gwen, the light coming through her cheap blue curtains was just enough to piss off her hangover.

‘Why didn’t I invest in blackout curtains?’ she thought as it felt as if spoons were jackhammering through her temples and she hadn’t had a drop of water for days while baking in hot desert sun. She didn’t have a huge apartment, for her price range in the city it was decent, a studio apartment with a tiny oven and fridge. It was a bit cramped with her furniture as she inherited a giant bureau from her parents when they downsized their own house when she graduated from college. Her bed and bureau took up the majority of the space, she had a comfy chair she got from dumpster diving on Allston Christmas that past Labor Day. Normally you don’t take anything that could have bed bugs but it looked practically new and she did a thorough examination of it and sprayed it down extensively before allowing it into her apartment. The closest she had to a dining room table was a set of 4 tv tray tables that she used as her end side tables next to her full size bed. The one nice thing that she loved about the studio was the hardwood floors. They may have been slightly warped and damaged over the years and probably never replaced, but they really had character.

She rolled over and groaned when she saw HIM. What was his name again? Bruce? Brian? Bryce? Brody…? Yeah, Brody, she thought. It was definitely something that a typical frat boy who went to an Ivy League school would have. Not there was anything wrong with that, but he was so not her type. Gwen had only gotten that drunk because she was working up her courage to hit on someone else entirely.

She really thought Brody would be gone by morning. Who sleeps over anymore, except the desperate? Most men that she made poor decisions with would duck out the first chance they got unless they had nowhere to go. She had a fleeting image of Brody actually being homeless in his spotless pink polo with a popped collar, slicked up dirty blonde hair, navy blue slacks, and boat shoes asking passersby for spare change, which made her smirk.

Gwen thought, ‘Maybe if I got up and used the bathroom he’ll sneak his way out like a proper one nighter.’

She didn’t think he just passed out, he definitely fell asleep. She really hoped he would do the honorable thing (or was it more a dishonorable thing?) and sneak out when he had the chance. Gwen threw her heavy sheets off her bare legs and walked to her bathroom, grimacing the entire way. Walked was a loose term for stumbed. She flicked the light on and the harsh bathroom light makes her wince, florescent lights were even worse than a beautiful morning sunlight. She leaned over to turn on the sink and she splashed the cold water onto her face basking in the shock of coolness cleansing some of her mistakes from the night before. She braved a glance to the slightly cracked mirror. She looked like hell, makeup was smeared over her face and bits of her hair stuck out in odd angles. She drank far too much last night.

“Never again” she muttered, “Well most likely never again.”

She sighed and started to scrub the night off her face and body. The sink alone wouldn’t cut it, so she reached into the tiny shower and turned it on high. Steam started filling the small black and white bathroom and she gingerly stepped in. It was literally the smallest shower she had ever seen. Most men, and her, had this fantasy of shower sex, where its hot, wet, and intense. She could barely turn around in the small confines of her shower, she couldn’t even bend over to shave her legs. So she just stood in the hot amazing waterfall that washed off some of her regrets from the night before.

It wasn’t like Brody was bad looking. He just SO wasn’t her type. She preferred geeky, dark haired, tech guys, usually with a few tattoos. Not quite hipster, but definitely not someone who might own a yacht. Brody looked like a frat guy who never grew up after college. Dirty blonde with that annoying confidence that really is cockiness. This is why she usually avoided Tequila. Tequila is the cause of many poor choices.

She really had been going for a friend of a friend of a friend who she happened to know would be showing up at that particular bar the night before (based on a little facebook stalking), so she gave herself some liquid courage. Gwen had put in the effort to wear makeup, a bra, and a skirt. Usually she’s a bare faced, braless, and baggy pants type of girl. And then he didn’t even make an appearance. Tipsy Gwen who is sad makes the worse decisions of all the versions of herself. Tipsy Gwen brings strangers home.

After what felt like an hour long shower but really was only a few minutes, Gwen finally felt a bit more human and shut off the shower. For a brief moment she stood silently in her shower breathing in deep cleansing breaths of steam. As the bathroom goes silent she realized the TV was on outside the bathroom.

“God dammit” Her moment of quiet was done and she carefully wrapped a large towel around herself, hair still dripping, took a deep breath as if she was preparing for battle, and opened the door.

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