I wake up to the sound of the shower running. I am awfully comfortable in Alex’s bed. The sheets are so soft and warm. Maybe I won’t ever leave this place. Maybe I like the expensive sheets and the incredible view.
The sun is just rising over the New York skyline and I already know it’s going to be a beautiful day. I stretch out on the bed and chuckle at my messy reflection on the ceiling. I can’t decide if I like the mirror or if I think it’s outrageous. I certainly enjoyed the view last night.
Last night. I sigh at the memory. I slept with my boss. With Alex. I am not sure those two are the same. It’s a lame excuse, but it’s all I need when I hear the water turn off in the adjoining bathroom and Mr. Hotshot enters the scene.
How is a girl supposed to resist that? Wet hair, water
