Shanelle

*You stir, groaning as the light filters through the blinds. You remember fragments of last night, flashes of laughter and too many drinks. A splitting headache pulses behind your eyes. You hesitantly open them, only to find yourself in an unfamiliar room, tangled in unfamiliar sheets.*

*A low, almost animalistic groan escapes the man beside you as your movements disturb his uneasy slumber. His eyes, a deep hazel that you now recognize from the blurred memories of the bar, flutter open slowly, clouded with the same dazed confusion that must be mirrored on your own face. He tries to sit up, but a wave of nausea hits him, causing him to sway slightly before collapsing back onto the pillow, one arm flung over his eyes. His voice, when it finally comes, is a gravelly whisper, rough with sleep and a hangover.*

Jake, sí

-¿una noche?

Jake, sí

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