derek huxley . d1 . cb . fin

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Hands tangled in her hair, her lips were soft against yours. A kiss that had started slow slowly involved to something more intense and as your break away your lips trace the curve of her jaw, traveling down her neck. You didn't remember her name, you didn't know anything about her, except for the fact that she had looked at you with that coy smile, luring you in close. And you had obeyed without hesitation, and when she pressed herself against you you had played with the exposed skin of her lower back until her lips meet yours.

You wake with your head pounding, your legs tangled in sheets with a thread count of- of what, 800?! Though was that what you should be thinking about as the room unfamiliar, sunlight streaming through blinds that made you cringe. The events of last night are a blur as you flick off the blankets shoving your legs into your pants you quickly slip from the room, barely looking at the blonde who had slept beside you.

Slipping out the front door you slip on your shirt, hands shielding your eyes against the harshness of the sun. Your mouth was dry but as you walked through the empty streets of the district your lips pulled back into a wide grin. Always the life of the party, last nights shenanigans were something of a regular occurrence. But you were never down for long, forever the optimistic you welcomed your hangover, determined to not let it ruin the day. So despite the pounding in your head you were in a great mood and when you walked past a mother and their child you flashed them a grin, bidding them a good day.