Page 9 of His Curvy Obsession

Frowning, I slide out of bed and step onto the lush carpeted floor. The room I’m in is blank, empty, as though the owner of this place never bothered to fully move in. A single chair is against the wall next to me, pointed towards the bed.

Where the hell am I?

I wipe the sleep from my eyes and try to remember what happened last night. My head is pounding. Everything is a fog. The last thing I remember clearly is listening to some guy’s boring golf stories at the open bar, sipping on a glass of wine and watching the other women dancing on the dance floor, wishing I had their confidence.

And what else happened? There has to be more.Obviouslythere’s more if I went home with a guy last night.

But every time I try to remember anything further from last night, my head pounds even harder.

I don’t know how much I drank last night. But however much it was, it was far too much. Never again. Never, ever again. With everything else going on in my life, a drunken hookup with a guy from work is the last thing I need right now.

When I look down I realize I’m wearing an oversized white t-shirt that falls to my knees. It’s soft to the touch, the kind of softness that you only get from a t-shirt that’s truly “vintage” — worn and torn, having been through a thousand cycles in the washer and dryer.

The lettering across the front is faded and cracked. I tug the shirt out from my chest a little, trying to read the letters upside down.

JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY

Wait.

Oh no.

No.

No no no no no no. This can’t be.

The bedroom door swings open. Eric Stone, my boss, walks in wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. Nothing else. No shirt. And by the looks of the prominent bulge beneath the gray fabric of his sweatpants, no underwear either.

“You’re awake. Good.”

“What the fuck?” I shriek.

Ouch.The volume of my own voice sends a new wave of pain rebounding between my temples. I wince, closing my eyes and backing away to sit down on the bed.

“Yeah, you’re going to feel like that all morning,” Eric says, his deep voice quiet and stern. “You basically poisoned your organs last night.”

“And yet you still brought me back to your place,” I say, opening my eyes to glare at him. “Was I even coherent? Or does that not matter to you?”

“You think we slept together?” he asks, his voice hardening.

“Well, didn’t we?” I ask, waving a hand at myself, the bed, and him.

“No,” he replies. “We didn’t sleep together. Unlike yourdatelast night, I’m not into taking advantage of vulnerable women. I brought you back here last night because you would have endangered yourself if I’d left you alone.”

I think about this.

“You could have called me an Uber,” I say, raising my gaze to look up at him.

“You think it would have been better to put you, blackout drunk, in a car with a complete stranger and trust them to get you home?” he asks. “Even if you made it home, last I checked, Uber drivers don’t walk you to your door, pour you a glass of water, and make sure you get to your bed.”

Taking a deep breath, I consider this. It all makes sense…I think.

“Why am I in different clothes?” I ask, pulling the bottom of the shirt lower on my thighs. “Where’s my dress?”

“In the garbage,” he answers. “You were very sick last night, Rebecca. I don’t think you’re going to want that dress back. I’ll just leave it at that.”

“So…so I changed my clothes,” I say hopefully, looking at him. “You gave me a shirt and I cleaned myself up and changed.

He shakes his head.

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