Morning After
Eira woke to the sound of birds chirping, which wouldn’t have been remarkable except she hadn’t heard birds outside her window in... well, ever. She groaned and pulled the pillow over her face, the heavy fabric not nearly enough to shut out the relentless sunlight streaming through unfamiliar white curtains.
Unfamiliar curtains.
Eira froze. She shoved the pillow aside, blinking rapidly as she sat up. The hotel room—neatly decorated in neutral tones, with cream walls and tasteful furniture—was decidedly not her cozy, cluttered apartment.
Where am I?
She did a quick inventory of her surroundings. Her purse was tossed over a chair, one shoe had ended up near the door, and she was still in the black dress she’d worn to Sarah’s party. Fragments of last night played back in her head: cocktails, laughter, and then... nothing.
With a deep breath, she looked to her left—and nearly fell out of bed. An unfamiliar man lay sprawled on top of the covers, fully dressed, and snoring lightly. His face was half-buried in a hotel pillow, one arm hanging off the edge of the mattress in a way that looked both uncomfortable and absurdly endearing. He was handsome.
Eira’s mind went into overdrive. Who was he? What was he doing here? And, most importantly, why was she here?
She inched closer, holding her breath, until he suddenly stirred and his eyes flew open, locking onto hers. They were a striking shade of hazel.
“Uh... good morning?” Eira managed, her voice breaking the fragile silence. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his rumpled hair. “Morning,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep. He looked around the room, then back at her.
Eira’s cheeks burned as she clutched the sheets tighter around her. “I don’t suppose you have any idea why we’re here?”
“You don’t remember?” He shrugged, an almost lazy motion that did nothing to ease her anxiety. “You were drunk,” he said bluntly. “You couldn’t get home, and Sarah was too busy to deal with you. So I did.”
Eira’s breath hitched. “So you just—what? Decided to bring me here?”
A muscle in his jaw tightened, but his expression remained cold and indifferent. “It was the easiest option,” he said, as if he’d done nothing more remarkable than carry a piece of luggage.
Her embarrassment flared into anger. “And you thought it was a good idea to stay? Here?”
He gave her a long, assessing look, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s not like I had a choice. You wouldn’t let go.” His voice was detached, almost clinical, as if describing a minor inconvenience.
“Okay,” she said, directing her gaze anywhere but at him. “Let’s start with names, then. I’m Eira.”
“Hiro,” he said without hesitation.
A phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking the moment. Hiro glanced at the screen and let out a sigh. He muttered something under his breath—too low for her to hear—before standing up and reaching for a leather jacket draped over the back of a chair. “Anyway, I’m leaving. I have more important things to do.”
“What?” Eira’s voice rose in disbelief. “You’re not even going to explain what happened?”
“There’s nothing to explain,” he said, already halfway to the door. He paused, glancing back at her with a flicker of annoyance. “If you’re that desperate for answers, ask Sarah. I don’t have time to play detective for you.”
Her mouth dropped open at the sheer arrogance, but before she could retort, he was at the door, his movements quick and precise. He paused just long enough to toss a small, nondescript card onto the bed. “Here,” he said coolly. “In case you want to reach out.”
Eira stared at the card, a mix of frustration and confusion bubbling inside her. “Why would I want to call you?” she shot back, her tone sharp.
He smirked, the first sign of emotion he’d shown since waking up. “That’s up to you,” he said. There was no warmth in his smile—only a hint of condescension, like he already knew what she would do.
Before she could gather her thoughts, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that left Eira feeling oddly abandoned. She sat there, stunned, staring at the blank card with a single phone number scrawled across it in black ink.
Who the hell was he?
Eira flopped back onto the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. Last night felt like a half-remembered dream that refused to piece together, but there was no mistaking the feeling that she’d seen him somewhere before. There was a familiarity in those hazel eyes that she couldn’t shake, like a tune she couldn’t quite remember.
Her phone buzzed from her purse, snapping her out of her thoughts. Her messages were flooded with concerned texts from Sarah, asking if she was alright.
Eira typed out a quick response, her fingers hovering over the keys before she hit send.
If anyone had answers, it would be Sarah.
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Hi readers! :3 I recently rewrote chapters 1 and 2. I just finished my exams, and while I was studying, I couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make the chapters even better. If you read the original versions, I hope you enjoy the new changes! Let me know what you think!
