Page 8 of Heartstrings & Hijinks

It had been Friday, but it wasn’t karaoke Friday, which meant I didn’t drink a ton. Yet I felt like I had thrown back a bottle of tequila like it was spring break of senior year.

For fuck’s sake, where was I? What had I done?

Surely I was too old to be making poor choices. I hadn’t even made poor choices when I was young and dumb. I was far too practical for that.

My phone rested on the stand next to the bed. It had a sticky note on it:You’re at my house. – Gregory Alton.

I was where now?

Of course Gregory “Don’t call me Greg” Alton put his full name on the note.

How the fuck did I manage to land in his bed? And why couldn’t I remember it?

That was some cruel twist of fate. I was in the bed of the hottest man alive, and I couldn’t remember how I got there.

The smell of bacon wafted through the air, accompanied by the faint noises of someone cooking. I was at Gregory’s house, and he was making bacon. Was it for me?

I was fully dressed in the clothes I had gone out in—including shoes—so whatever I had done last night had not included me getting naked. Though my zipper was undone. I went into the bathroom, found some mouthwash, swished it around, did my business, and then went in search of answers. If my brain had been working at all, I would have taken a moment to take in my surroundings and investigate what sort of house decor Gregory liked. For as many years as I’d known the man, I’d never been to his home. As far as I knew Greg hadn’t been here much either. Gregory’s house was his sanctuary. No one else allowed.

I expected to find Gregory in his kitchen in a full suit, like I saw him every day at work. But instead, he wore a pair of track pants hung low on his hips and a thin, threadbare T-shirt, like he had owned it for years and had yet to toss it away. It had his college logo on it.

I swallowed thickly. “Gregory,” I said. My voice was hoarse. My throat dry. The light that streamed in from the large windows in the living room bounced off the white walls and caused the pounding in my head to increase double time. I squinted to block the light, holding my hand up as if I could will it away.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” He grinned, and I nearly died. I must have died. This was heaven. I was in heaven. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. But first, are you hungry at all? How do you feel? Is the room too bright? I can close the blinds.” He reached for a tablet on the kitchen counter and clicked a few buttons. The blinds descended over the windows and the room darkened.

Confused AF. That was what I was. And also stupidly turned on by watching Gregory expertly move around his kitchen like he was at home there. Which he should be. This was literally his home. Apparently, the throbbing of my head didn’t stop my dick from perking up much like it did anytime I was near Gregory.

“Evan?”

I snapped out of my thoughts.

“I feel like someone is sitting on my head, or maybe the Hulk is using it as a hammer.” Was Hulk the one who had the hammer? No, that was Thor.

“Yeah, I read that you might feel that way and that you’re going to need some nutrition. I have protein shakes. They’re not the tastiest in the world, but they’ve got electrolytes in them. Plus, the protein. And I thought, if you’re feeling up to it and want real food, I have eggs and bacon. This is what I have for breakfast each day. I didn’t have much else.”

“What happened?” I asked. “How did I get here?” Why was I here? Oh gawd, what sort of shenanigans had I gotten up to that Gregory Alton was involved? I was so fired.

“Right. So, you were at the Heist Bar, and you saw a guy slip something into a lady’s drink.”

“He did what? The fuck?”

“Exactly. And in order to prevent her from drinking the drink and being drugged, you grabbed it and tossed it back.”

Oh shit. That definitely sounded like a thing I would do. This was what happened when Sawyer wasn’t there. Not that he would have stopped me. He probably would have tackled the guy. But at least I wouldn’t have had to reach out to Gregory Alton to save my ass.

“Short-sighted but ultimately met the goal.”

Gregory laughed. “That is exactly what I said.”

“Did I… call you?” Oh fuck. What had I said or done while under the influence? This was why I didn’t drink. I blamed Sawyer. This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t abandoned me to spend time with Mark.

“Sort of. You told the lady to call Greg, not ‘Hot Gregory.’ She found me in your phone as ‘Hot Gregory.’”

I winced. “They were supposed to call my brother.”

“Yes, but he’s out of town anyway. So here I am.”

I pinched my eyes closed. Now that the room was dark, the headache subsided, but embarrassment took its place. “I am so sorry, Gregory. That was not an appropriate way to save someone in my phone, least of all my boss. I am sincerely sorry for everything I said last night. I assure you whatever I said, I didn’t mean it.”

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