Happy weekend, Snippetteers! I’ve had a reasonable writing week and managed to get down about 1500 words of Favourite Toy 2. Hoping to write some more this weekend. Last week Ryan woke up with the hangover from hell, mortified to discover he’d had sex with Remy and couldn’t remember anything about it. Now, they run into each other in the kitchen.
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“I’m sorry about, um, what happened,” I grunted, my voice so quiet I barely heard it myself.
“It’s okay, Dean and Casper went out,” Remy said.
“You regret it, don’t you?”
“Um—” I stared into the sink as if there was something fascinating in the plug hole.
“It’s fine. It was, um, just a bit of fun. We were both drunk. I’m surprised you remembered it at all, actually.” He laughed, his humour sounding completely fake.
I knew I should say something, but I couldn’t think of a single word that might make him feel better. A quick glance from the corner of my eye showed me his sad face, lips trembling slightly. I felt as if someone had punched me in the guts. Why the hell had I drunk so much? Why the hell had I thought even a New Year’s kiss was a good idea? How had it even happened? I couldn’t remember going up to my room, getting undressed, or any of it. I vaguely remembered the feel of him under me, the sharp bite on my shoulder, which indicated I either hurt him, or he was trying to be quiet, and I remembered him gasping my name. That was about it.
“Remy, I’m—” He was gone. He’d taken his coffee mug and left the room while I was trying to recollect how it felt fucking him. “You fucking arsehole, Ryan,” I muttered.
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