I don't really remember the night. It's a big blur of drink and the sexy brunette I picked up at the club. I vaguely remember Cayden punching him, and then not being able to explain why, but I guess it doesn't matter... he doesn't matter. I don't mind being a rebound fuck, even if he seems to think I'm worth more than that.
And for a rebound fuck, it was pretty damn good.
I slip out of his sleepy hug and have a quick shower. By the time I'm done, he's half awake. I throw a towel at him, "the shower's through there," I say pointing towards the bathroom and he groans, dragging himself out of bed. With a smile, I start making French toast, glad that for once my hangover is bearable: a mild throbbing in the back of my head.
I'm just trying to remember the guy's name sitting at the breakfast bar in the middle of the kitchen, as he walks in. Val. That was his name... right? I'm not sure...
"There's some French toast keeping warm under the grill if you want it, and there's aspirin in the meds box by the sink," I tell him, avoiding using his name in case he gets pissed off about me getting it wrong. He grunts a ‘thanks' and throws back half a glass of water and a couple of pills then pulls the plate with the French toast on it, sitting opposite me. I watch as he drowns it in syrup and starts eating, his blue eyes dulled with his hangover. I guess he had more to drink than I did.
"Right," I say after a while, breaking the silence between us, "I gotta go to work, so umm... if you're staying here much longer, try not to destroy the place. I'll maybe see you around," I say, dumping my plate in the sink and picking up my name tag, shoving it in my pocket.
I'm still trying to convince myself Cayden doesn't matter, but I think I've got a crush on him. This could be interesting.