Ashley
With the help of aspirin, a few mind-blowing orgasms, and a long nap in Gray's arms, I'm feeling somewhat human again by mid-afternoon.
He's still out cold—stretched across my bed like he owns the lease, naked, shameless, completely unbothered—while I drag my hungover ass to the kitchen. I whip up pancakes, bacon, and eggs, letting the smell of grease and syrup do its thing and sober me up a little more.
Don't get it twisted—I'm still pissed at Gray. But the way he showed up last night, making sure I didn't choke on my own vomit? The way he f****d me like it meant something instead of using my body to blow off steam?
Yeah... that's progress.
It's proof he's trying. Shows he's not out here running game on me, or jumping into some other b***h's bed just because we're not official
