Page 16 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

He runs his fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my eyelids growing heavy.

“Jordan?” he asks after... a minute? Maybe two?

“Hm?” I ask, so tired. So heavy.

I hear nothing else.

5

JORDAN

My alarm blares nearby. Time to get up.

I bolt upright, having already been awake and staring at the ceiling for the last half-hour.

Grabbing my phone, I turn off the alarm before it wakes up Bronson, too. Fortunately, the guy doesn’t even budge, able to sleep through just about anything.

For a few more minutes, I sit on the bed. Naked. Warm. Parts of me still humming with pleasant post-coital bliss.

Oh, boy.

What have we done?

“Damn,” I whisper.

Then, I get out of bed. I hop in the shower, washing off the mix of sweat and body fluids still present on my skin.

“Damn,” I whisper, the flow of water trickling down my body, reminding me of Bronson’s tongue.

I finish getting ready. I dry off. I choose an outfit and put on some makeup. I brew a batch of coffee in the suite’s coffeemaker, intent on filling my faded golden Botsford Plaza travel mug to the brim — a mug that’s seen better days for sure, but I can’t seem to part with it.

All the while, there’s a man sleeping in my bed.

Bronson Isaacs.

“Goddamn,” I whisper as I stand over him. I sip at my coffee, curious about how he sleeps through...everything. I wasn’t even trying to stay quiet.

“Bronson,” I say.

He doesn’t move. He lies on his stomach with one arm under his head and the other stretched out at his side.

I lean over him to make sure he’s still breathing. “Bronson,” I say again.

Still, nothing.

“Bronson.” I nudge him.“Bronson!”

He startles with a lurch and a snort.“Hrgh?”he asks, glancing around, his eyes barely open.

I smile. “Hi. Good morning.”

A few blinks and Bronson takes another look, my presence no doubt leading to a flood of memories from last night. Or, at least, I hope so.

A girl likes to be memorable.

“Good morning,” he mumbles.

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