Page 5 of Fluttering Heart

My head snaps up with the realization, and I look around frantically for the beautiful brown-haired man with grayish green eyes I saw last night.

Fuck, am I in his room?

That is one hell of a loser move. My eyes stop on the door to the bathroom and... Well, this roomisvery similar to the one Beau and I dumped our bags in yesterday, but the feet dangling from the couch definitely don’t look like my brother’s.

They’re paler, for one, but also, Beau would sooner kick me to the floor than sleep on a couch when there’s half a mattress to be had.

No, sadly my actions from the early hours of the morning all come rushing back in painful detail. Including the way the beautiful man stared at me when I declared I needed to sleep and thenjust made myself at fucking home in his bed.

I’m never going to live this down. Well, I don’t have to tell Beau, but I think this story would more than likely bring a smile to his face which is the whole freaking reason why we’re in Vegas in the first place.

More importantly though, I’m the one who’s going to be acutely reliving the embarrassment I’m feeling right now.

For the rest of my life most likely.

I’m twenty-five damn years old for fuck’s sake, I should be better than this already but my impulse control has always been almost non-existent.

I get up slowly, not only to avoid jostling my pounding head, but so I make the least amount of noise possible. Despite my idea of getting out of here as soon as humanly possible, my bladder has other ideas. So I go into the bathroom and pee slowly, flush the toilet slowly—as if that’s going to make any difference at all—squirt some toothpaste on my fingerslowly, and then wince when the water hits the sink.

I think about the kind man who didn’t call hotel security on me, and although I do want to flee the scene of the crime like my ass is on fire, I can’t help but want to see the beautiful man again. Maybe I can even learn his name.

And God, maybe if all the divine powers of the universe are looking down on me, he’s not straight. That would be pretty awesome. That would be amazing.

So it’s probably not going to go that way, is it?

“God,” I say quietly, and sigh as I lean my hip against the counter. I scrub a hand down my face then decide I better splash some water on it so I at least look a bit more awake.

How did I even end up here? I remember realizing I didn’t have a key but... One-two-one-two, I realize.

My room with Beau is one-two-two-one. Shit.

I need to apologize to the poor guy I woke up at four in the morning. I need to—let him sleep, I realize.

Yes, I need to get out of here quietly and then come back later at a more decent hour—wait, what time even is it? I check my phone and it’s all out of battery. Of course it is.

Okay, doesn’t matter what time it is. I’ll leave, go to my actual room, take a shower, put on some nice clothes and then come back here, knock like a civilized person this time instead of a deranged lunatic, and invite the stranger out for brunch. It’s the least I can do after all.

I take a deep breath, prepared to be extra quiet when I go get my shoes and twist the door handle as slowly as I can. I peek out, and I have to confess my heart stops for a long second when I see the couch is empty.

Fuck, did he leave?

I hear rustling, and snap my gaze to the bed to see him sitting on the side I didn’t sleep on. He’s somehow even prettier than my drunken memory of last night, and since I was suspicious about how clear my vision was last night, that’s fucking impressive.

“Uh, hello,” I say tentatively and open the door wider to take one tiny step out. I crossed so many lines last night, and I wouldn’t blame the guy if he started throwing shit at me. He doesn’t, though. I see his body tense, but then he takes a deep breath and pins me in place with those amazing eyes.

“Hello,” he says. He sounds calm, and his lips even tip up slightly, like he’s amused.

“I am so, so sorry. I obviously thought this was my room.” And the ramble starts again. “See, my room is one-two-two-one, and in my drunken haze I thought this was it. Which it obviously isn’t, and again, I am so sorry. I promise I left the bathroom super clean, but I’m sure housekeeping will disinfect it all if that’s what you need. And god, I slept in your bed. Thank you for being so kind and patient and I really can’t tell you how sorry I am, I?—”

He stops me with a raised palm, thankfully, because I could’ve kept that rant going for a while.

“What’s your name?” he asks simply.

“I’m Finn.” That finally gets me moving. I take the ten steps separating us but still leave a big gap. I don’t want to intrude into his space any more than I already have. “I’m Finn Heart. I’m a good person, I swear. I’m an accountant and have my own business. Not normally a deranged lunatic. And I also very rarely drink, and never drink as much as I did last night.”

“Probably why you were so drunk,” he muses, but his smirk grows. Okay, he really is amused. That’s really good. “I’m Lou Yates.” He puts his phone down on the mattress next to his hip and offers me a hand to shake.

I grip his hand and can’t help that my fingers tighten slightly when I feel the warmth of them, and they’re a bit calloused too. I look down, and for some reason, the way our hands look linked together entrances me for a long moment.

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