Drunk again. The question only remained as to where the fuck I managed to end up since the last sliver of sobriety was washed away by the sips of rum, which I cleverly chased with wine. Can I actually fathom the meager strength required to actually remembered when this blur of a so-called life spiraled this far out. I felt tha answer was so fucking obvious- Hell-fucking-no, so here I am still contemplating on, whether or not I should leave, or ask who ever is here too where I am or how the hell I ended up here. The later bit probably would not do me well at all.
Instead I had managed to get out of the foreign bed, and tip toe to my jeans, praying to god he was at least handsome or at the very least clean of any infectious diseases. Then again if I did manage to fuck him… a-ha there it is, the glorious condom wrapper right next to my boots and his tee. I decided to borrow a tee shirt from his opened closet behind the door that was probably flung open in desparation by either of us last night, or would i be considered this morning? Whatever it didn’t matter now, nothing really did except who he was, where I am, and how would I manage to get back home to my cold one bedroom flat.
Just as I pulled a shirt out of the closet, black with white text reading “Toronto Fucking City”. I quickly slid the shirt on shivering at the cold and looking back at the tall body that was hidden beneath the electric green outlined comforter. Just then a small black and white cat jumped on the bed and pawed at the lump of a man’s figure. I pressed a finger to my lips, hoping the cat wouldn’t wake the sleeping person.
While I pulled up my jeans and zipped a thud pierced through the silent room, and I quickly glanced back at the cat, who was now held under a tattooed arm, from the distance I immediately recognized the tattoo. It had belonged to one of my heroes, not to mention one of the biggest celebrity crushes I had. Of course the typical fangirl I was, was screaming inside my head with excitement, and then flooded by sudden flashes of the night’s activities.
Images of me dancing with my friends at concert, flashed forward to those of me talking to him at a bar, skipping to us laughing in a cab, then ahead to us entering his home, and me meeting the cat, followed by more shots poured into tall skinny glasses and us downing one after another. While I was remembering the events, I sat on the bed tying my boots into perfect loops, when I felt an arm wrap around my waist pulling me closer and making me fall back.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re running off too,” he asked groggily as he kissed my cheek softly, “Was I that bad last night that you don’t even wanna see me?”
”Nowhere, and to be honest I can’t really remember last night, or even how I managed to meet you. How I got here is also a mystery, but in all honesty do tell me how terrible I was, and in case you forgot my name it’s Cat.” I answered as calmly as possible, trying my hardest to stay cool and not make it obvious that I was a fangirl.
”I remember names, especially if we fucked, that would make me just look like an idiot piece of shit, who abuses my fame. I don’t think I do, well at least I hope I don’t. Ummm… well this is awkard kinda now, but you do know my name right?” he asked still covered up as I nodded a yes.
We both shared a laugh and he pulled me close again poking my nose saying, “Please just tell me you didn’t mention shit on like twitter or any bullshit, bitches would probably be like lined up outside my door or at your place ready to: a.)pounce me and try to jump my fucking bones, b.) Haters waiting to try to kick my ass or kill me or some fucked up shit, c.) Creep groupies waiting to attack you, and frankly I really wouldn’t mind if it was another chick, but there’s just something about us… I think at least.”
