I don't wake up with the alarm like I usually do; instead the crack of sunlight coming through the curtains is enough to drag me out of my sleep. It may also have something to do with the fact that the air conditioning is a little cold in here. I glance over the top of my companion's head at the clock, and I see that it's another two and a half hours before it's due to go off.

The companion in question is still slumbering peacefully on; as I watch Chelsea I see her chest rise and fall in slow, even breaths. It occurs to me as I look at her that we're dressed identically except for the colour of our shirts. She's in black and I'm in white - guess that makes me the good guy. I'd laugh, if I didn't think it'd wake her. I have a suspicion that if I wake up she'll flee before me, like a doe at the sound of twigs snapping beneath somebody's approaching feet. As it is, I gingerly reach for the blanket folded over the end of the bed, to pull it up around us both. We've both fallen asleep on top of the covers, still in our clothes.

I'm kind of amazed that we did actually, because I'm sure we moved in here with some kind of intent. We were kissing on the sofa, and then we did some kind of silent communication thing where I got up and she was only half a beat behind. We were kissing all the way into the bedroom, we were kissing on our way down to the mattress… but somehow the kissing stopped before it reached what you might think was the inevitable conclusion. I looked at her and she looked at me and before either of us knew it our eyes were shut and we were dead to the world. There was no rejection or big dramatic moment where we decided not to, we just kind of mutually and naturally drifted off.

Umm… I'd like to pretend that I was sensible and pulled back when I realised that she's my (borrowed) PA and that this is unprofessional and probably not a good idea in general, but I'd be a liar. It did cross my mind briefly, but it was more that… okay, I am turning into a woman even as I say this… it didn't feel right to go on and have sex, somehow. This is not something I hesitate to do under normal circumstances, but this time it just kind of came naturally for us to just stop at the kissing, tangle our legs up together and go to sleep. They're still tangled up, actually, although her torso is completely set back from mine and there's no suggestion that we're otherwise hugging.

Before you catch the impression that last night was in the least part innocent, I should probably tell you that I totally copped a feel.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not doing that lame 'I respect you too much to rush in' shit. I'm sorry if it busts any bubbles, but any guy who says that is just pulling game on some poor unsuspecting chick. It's either a lame excuse to back out because he's just not that into her or he's trying to build up some credibility as a gentleman because it'll get him excused from some less gentlemanly behaviour later. I know because I've done it myself - girls then react to all the later bullshit you pull with 'oh but he respects me really, he wouldn't even sleep with me at first because he wanted me to be sure.' There might be a few exceptions but in general it's a total lie, and I grew out of that kind of shit about three years ago.

Chelsea… I don't know. In any other situation I'd have gone for it, but Chelsea's different. It's not because she's some perfect girl who needs to be venerated and treated like a goddess or anything stupid like that, it's just that we're (kind of) friends and we work together. It just… you know sometimes you just get an instinctual, pit of your stomach sense of 'this is the dumb thing to do' and 'this is a much better idea?' Sleeping with her seemed kind of stupid at the time. Don't get me wrong, she's cool and while not Angelina Jolie she's quite good looking enough for any guy who doesn't have the stupid idea in his head that only supermodels are worth it. I definitely would have in the physical sense but… I don't know. Making out just seemed like the place to stop.

The question is, I guess, what now? All that kissing made sense at the time but right now I have no idea if she'll freak, if she'll want more, or if she'll pretend it never happened. I have no idea what I'll be doing about that either.

I definitely started it so I can't blame her, and I can't blame the drink either because I only had two rounds of JD and Coke. Two shots of whiskey are not nearly enough to get me wasted. Right now I'm staring at her, hoping that she won't somehow feel my gaze and wake up. If I got a crush on her that's one thing, but if I'm just horny and this isn't about her then I got far safer places to exercise that urge than on somebody I work with and consider a friend. I refuse to use my PA - not even my PA really, Sophie's - as a fuck buddy. That's just all kinds of wrong.

Her face is slightly round as I stare at it. In fact, most of her body is slightly rounded at the various curve points - the small of her back, her hips, and her stomach. You can tell this is a girl who doesn't look after herself as much as she could but doesn't slack off either. This is not a woman who starves herself or slaves in a gym, Chelsea's just kind of normal like that… and in everything, really. She's got this dark blonde hair that I'm guessing has a little chemical help, and behind the closed lids are two muddy brown eyes. Her features aren't too remarkable and she's not stunningly pretty or anything, she's just… nice. She has a nice face.

Heh, she just shifted a little and I can see some big red crease marks on her cheek from the pillow. Her foot brushes mine and I'm struck first by how small and then by how cold it is. Good thing I pulled that blanket up otherwise it would have been even colder.

***

Fuck it really is cold in here.

Fuck I made out with Justin Timberlake.

Fuck it's really great kissing boys. I'd repressed the information on how just how good: probably to help myself cope with the lack of one in my life.

My eyelids flutter open, and the first thing I see is a steely blue gaze. It almost startles me, but I manage to swallow the reaction and keep still. Apart from anything else, it's so cold in here I suspect the only parts of this blanket that will be warm are those directly feeding off my body heat and moving will make me colder. I wonder when he pulled it over us. He's a smart man… although maybe it would have been smarter to have got up and turned the air con down.

"Morning," he says simply.

"Morning," I reply in kind. "I guess we weren't smart enough to get under the blankets before drifting off, huh?"

Justin gives a light chuckle, humouring me. "Nope, guess not."

"What time is it?" I can't see a clock.

"Nearly six."

"You mean there's a whole two hours before I'm supposed to wake up?" I complain. "Shit."

I can't help noticing that for all this glib pretence that this is like any other morning I've come in to make sure he's up and at 'em, my feet are still tangled up with his. I'm not sure whether it's because his feet are warm and mine aren't or whether I'm just conscious of what signals I give off. It turns out that the morning after making out is just as awkward as mornings after sex… although thankfully I don't have the embarrassment of trying to pick up clothes and cover my naked self. I always hate that; what looks good after a couple of beers and some low level lighting isn't always so attractive in the harsh light of day.

"I thought that when I woke up, only with an extra thirty minutes on it," He lets out a big white yawn and I can see white teeth. These are the natural kind of white though, the one that isn't pure white; these are not Hollywood dentist white. I'm guessing it's been a while since he last had an appointment.

"Man, I just thought of all the crap you have to do today… you wanna pretend we ate some bad pizza and got food poisoning?" I joke.

"I actually tried that a couple of times back in the day - until I realised they then call doctors to check," he tells me mournfully through a yawn. "Anything not serious enough to need a doctor they expect me to suck it up and anything serious enough for a doctor they call one. There is no faking."

"Dang."

"Why, Sophie pull sickies a lot?" He asks.

"No. If she gets sick her mother starts pulling out all these home remedies and they taste vile. Sophie says she'd pick actually being sick over having to take one unnecessarily."

"I'm trying to work out whether I'm supposed to kiss you right now or pretend like last night never happened."

Well, that was an extremely sudden though not really unexpected topic change; I guess one of us was going to bring it up. I admit I didn't expect him to be so blunt about it. I thought he'd do what he usually does when trying to push something delicate - he kind of tiptoes around it forever until you get so annoyed you'll be the one who brings it up purely to get it over with.

"Don't know what to tell ya." I look at him sheepishly.

"Well, I mean… I guess we… well you must have… it's not like…"

"It sucked?" I try to fill in the blank, and he blushes.

"Yeah. We were at it for a while so I guess we can't exactly call it an accident."

Sighing slightly, I start picking at the hem of the blanket (which is actually kind of itchy for a five star hotel). "I don't know Justin. You kissed me and I just kind of went with it."

"You just kind of…"

He trails off and I'm not sure what he's thinking. I can practically see the cogs whirring, probably trying to interpret that comment. Do I mean that I got caught up, or do I mean that I figured 'what the hell,' or was I just being polite: how's he supposed to know? Or maybe he's thinking something else; maybe he's wondering how to get across his own feelings on the situation. Maybe he's embarrassed at the indiscretion and just wants the air cleared? I have no idea at this point.

Apparently neither does Justin because we fall back into silence. Neither of us has yet moved, so our feet are still tangled together beneath the blanket.

"I probably ought to go soon." Naturally, it falls to me to be the one to speak again. "If I get seen coming out of here you can guarantee our torrid affair will be all over the papers."

"What? Why would they?"

It takes one of my patented 'are you really that stupid' glares to make him follow my drift. "Come on. I'm female and within twenty feet of you, what do you think they're gonna say? I'm telling you, rumours of wild monkey sex will ensue."

Justin snorts loudly, a disgusted expression on his face. "Nah, they'll say I locked you in here and spent the night beating you."

"Hmm." I ponder this for a moment. "So I guess on balance we'd be better off going for the monkey sex angle."

A smile creases his lips and he lets out the kind of low volume chuckle you emit when you're laughing so hard you can't get enough air to make it loud. "Sure. Hmm." Every syllable is punctuated with another choked laugh. "Seriously though," he says once he's recovered, "People will just think you passed out on the couch is all. It's no big deal."

That… if I'm not mistaken… was a get out clause. Of course I could have this totally ass backwards, but I think Justin is offering me a 'no harm no foul' here. We forget it, pass it off as me having crashed out in his room and nobody ever has to know. Well, nobody except Kennedy because this is serious gossip. If she didn't tell anybody about Sophie having that pregnancy scare (and she hates Sophie) she's not telling anybody about this.

"Good point well made," I tell him as I sigh and sink my head deeper into the pillow. It's too early to even be awake let alone be having all these thoughts.

"Fuck it's seriously cold in here."

"Maybe one of us should turn up the thermostat."

"I already did."

"Oh." Note to self: mentally retract that earlier thought about him not being smart enough. "In which case it really is fucking cold in here. You think it's broken?"

"Probably. I'm debating whether getting under the covers like I should have done last night will warm me up or if the sheets will be so cold they'll suck all the heat out of me."

"Another good point…" My eyebrows purse together as I consider this. The problem is you don't know until you try, and if you try and fail you've already let all that cold air under the top blanket too so we'd be cold no matter what.

Justin makes the decision for me by shifting closer and wrapping his arms around me, hugging my body to his. For a moment I think he's trying to come onto me again until he opens his mouth again: "you're warm, you'll do."

"Gee, thanks."

"I'll ignore the sarcasm. Shut up so I can go back to sleep."

In fairness to the boy, this wasn't a bad idea. I have to wriggle and squirm a little so that I can get comfortable (which elicits some complaint from him), but once I manage to burrow in under his arm I find that huddling up to him brings some more heat to my poor, cold self. I'm not as toasty warm as I'd like to be but I'm at least warm enough that I can start drifting back off to sleep for an extra hour or so. Nobody should be awake this early, it's just not natural.

"Chelsea?" His voice is sleep laden and he speaks in an almost dreamy tone.

"Hmm?" I'm not much better.

"We cool?"

Heh - the boy spends too much time with Timbaland. "Sure we are."

"Cool."

Letting a long, slow breath out, his cheek nestles against the crown of my hair. It's the last thing I remember before the alarm decides to wake us back up.

***

Well, she's gone.

Have to say, I'm kind of surprised at myself here. I'm surprised that I'm disappointed and I'm surprised that I'm surprised. I say that because this really isn't a shocker here; what did I think she was gonna do? I mean, okay, I guess the snuggling back up with me after could be construed as kind of mixed signals but it's not like Chelsea's ever shown any overwhelming interest in me. She's shown more interest in Trace… oh boy. I really hope Trace didn't have that thing I suspected he had for her or I'm the shittiest friend ever, developing a thing for his crush. Note to self, call him and ask. You might think it weird that I'm just gonna do that but that's me and Trace all over. If he wants her, I'm just gonna back away and forget this.

Yeah, okay, there's a thing to forget, I admit it. Just don't asked me when it happened because I haven't got a fucking clue. I take back what I said about making out seeming like the place to stop; it was a dumb idea even doing that. There's been a whole big can o' worms been opened up and now they're wrigglin' all over the floor.

Geez, I sound like my Grandpa when I say things like that. Worms, indeed….