spotless toilet were in immaculate condition. It was as though it had never been touched. She never expected Cameron to be so...clean. And it was such a relief. Lord knows, nothing turned her off more than a dirty man.
Reese looked at her reflection. Shit! She looked a mess. Her reddened eyes were glazed as though she were high out of her mind and if the cops were to pull her over right this minute, they would definitely lock her ass up. She fluffed her now sweated out hair before smoothing down the sides, then adjusted her strapless dress that did nothing but cause her discomfort from her sudden body heat. She tore a piece of tissue, dampened it, and wiped her smeared lipstick. She wanted so much to wash off her make-up right now, disgusted at the unsightly sheen of her oily skin.
"What the hell are you doing here, Reese?" She mumbled with a sigh.
She shook her head and left the bathroom. As she made her way to the living room, she found him in the kitchen, peering through his fridge.
"I don't mean to overstay my welcome," She apologized, standing by the island. "This is very unlike me."
"It's cool. Don't even worry about it."
"No, I shouldn't even be here this late. As soon as I'm in the right condition to drive, I'll lea—"
"Reese." He faced her. "If I wanted you gone, I would've kicked you out a long time ago."
She fell silent.
He turned to the fridge. "You want anything?"
"A bottle of water, thanks."
He grabbed one and handed it to her. He then took a can of Pepsi, before closing the fridge. She took deep gulps of the water to clear the dryness in her throat. She had no idea why she was so thirsty. And hot. When she felt his stare, she met his gaze and her face warmed. She blinked away.
"What?" She closed the bottle.
"Nothing." He leaned his back against the counter top, opening his can.
"I don't usually do this."
"Do what?"
"Drink this much."
He took a sip. "I ain't judging."
"Sure. You're probably thinking how much of a fool I made of myself tonight."
Just the thought of her gallivanting around, dancing on tables and acting a mess made her shudder. God, she was such a sloppy drunk.
"Nah, not at all. I liked seeing the real you."
"The real me?" She lifted a brow.
"Yeah."
"You don't even know me to make that assessment."
He stared at her for a moment.
"Okay." He nodded.
She rolled her eyes, disregarding his snide tone.
"You play pool?"
"What?" She looked at him.
"Pool, the game. You play?"
"Yeah why?"
"How about a round?"
"What?"
He left the kitchen. Puzzled, she followed him. He led her into a separate room which entailed a pool table, mounted plasma screen TV and beanbag chairs at the corner of the room. Just like the majority of his home, large glass windows enclosed the room, revealing the gorgeous view of Manhattan. For the first time, she took notice to the violet skies, tinted with the subtle array of orange exuded by the rising sun across the horizon. The hell! Why in the world was she still here?
"Cameron, what time is it?"
He glanced at his watch. "5:45."
Her eyes widened. "Five forty-what?" She quickly shook her head. "No, I gotta get home. I shouldn't be here right now."
"One game."
"At this time of the day?"
"Yeah."
"You can't be serious."
She couldn't think of a person any more random.
He grabbed the two rods from the table. "You gotta work in the morning?"
"No, but that's not the point. It's late and—"
He handed her the stick. "Here."
She looked at him like he was crazy. Was he out of his mind?
"Just one game."
With a long sigh, she snatched it from him. "Fine."
He gathered the balls scattered across the table and placed them in a triangular rack, setting them at the center. She stared out the window, shaking her head. She couldn't believe she was even doing this.
He rubbed the tip of his stick with the chalk. "How about we switch things up?"
She gave him a wary glance.
"21 questions."
She listened, wondering where he was going with this.
"Each time
Reese looked at her reflection. Shit! She looked a mess. Her reddened eyes were glazed as though she were high out of her mind and if the cops were to pull her over right this minute, they would definitely lock her ass up. She fluffed her now sweated out hair before smoothing down the sides, then adjusted her strapless dress that did nothing but cause her discomfort from her sudden body heat. She tore a piece of tissue, dampened it, and wiped her smeared lipstick. She wanted so much to wash off her make-up right now, disgusted at the unsightly sheen of her oily skin.
"What the hell are you doing here, Reese?" She mumbled with a sigh.
She shook her head and left the bathroom. As she made her way to the living room, she found him in the kitchen, peering through his fridge.
"I don't mean to overstay my welcome," She apologized, standing by the island. "This is very unlike me."
"It's cool. Don't even worry about it."
"No, I shouldn't even be here this late. As soon as I'm in the right condition to drive, I'll lea—"
"Reese." He faced her. "If I wanted you gone, I would've kicked you out a long time ago."
She fell silent.
He turned to the fridge. "You want anything?"
"A bottle of water, thanks."
He grabbed one and handed it to her. He then took a can of Pepsi, before closing the fridge. She took deep gulps of the water to clear the dryness in her throat. She had no idea why she was so thirsty. And hot. When she felt his stare, she met his gaze and her face warmed. She blinked away.
"What?" She closed the bottle.
"Nothing." He leaned his back against the counter top, opening his can.
"I don't usually do this."
"Do what?"
"Drink this much."
He took a sip. "I ain't judging."
"Sure. You're probably thinking how much of a fool I made of myself tonight."
Just the thought of her gallivanting around, dancing on tables and acting a mess made her shudder. God, she was such a sloppy drunk.
"Nah, not at all. I liked seeing the real you."
"The real me?" She lifted a brow.
"Yeah."
"You don't even know me to make that assessment."
He stared at her for a moment.
"Okay." He nodded.
She rolled her eyes, disregarding his snide tone.
"You play pool?"
"What?" She looked at him.
"Pool, the game. You play?"
"Yeah why?"
"How about a round?"
"What?"
He left the kitchen. Puzzled, she followed him. He led her into a separate room which entailed a pool table, mounted plasma screen TV and beanbag chairs at the corner of the room. Just like the majority of his home, large glass windows enclosed the room, revealing the gorgeous view of Manhattan. For the first time, she took notice to the violet skies, tinted with the subtle array of orange exuded by the rising sun across the horizon. The hell! Why in the world was she still here?
"Cameron, what time is it?"
He glanced at his watch. "5:45."
Her eyes widened. "Five forty-what?" She quickly shook her head. "No, I gotta get home. I shouldn't be here right now."
"One game."
"At this time of the day?"
"Yeah."
"You can't be serious."
She couldn't think of a person any more random.
He grabbed the two rods from the table. "You gotta work in the morning?"
"No, but that's not the point. It's late and—"
He handed her the stick. "Here."
She looked at him like he was crazy. Was he out of his mind?
"Just one game."
With a long sigh, she snatched it from him. "Fine."
He gathered the balls scattered across the table and placed them in a triangular rack, setting them at the center. She stared out the window, shaking her head. She couldn't believe she was even doing this.
He rubbed the tip of his stick with the chalk. "How about we switch things up?"
She gave him a wary glance.
"21 questions."
She listened, wondering where he was going with this.
"Each time
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