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The Party & The After Party - The Weeknd.
A light beams on my face, making me strain my eyes and wake up.
I look around the room, and I see Alessio sleeping peacefully—his one arm draped over my stomach—the weight feeling heavy.
The bedsheets tangled, and a pillow dividing the space between us.
He remembered from that night?
I try getting up, but Alessio's arm stops me.
"Don't." His hoarse voice speaks out.
Woah.
I'm not really a fan of morning voices, but his? Best believe, I'm changing my opinion.
The clock in front of me, shows that it's 8:00 am.
It's too fucking early for this.
"I have to go shower." I say, irritation seeping in my tone.
He did nothing wrong, I'm just not the best person to be around, in the morning.
"What time is it?" He asks me.
"8:00 am."
He jerks right up, as if he wasn't fast asleep two seconds ago.
"What happened?" I ask him, confused by his behavior.
"I had a meeting at 7. I don't know how I overslept. I never do." He says while pulling the comforter to the side, and getting up.
Alessio stands up, and grabs his watch from his beside table, and puts it on.
Of course he doesn't have a shirt on.
His arm veins are so defined, you can see them travel all the way up to his muscles.
I hate to say it, but he looks as if a Greek God sculpted him.
His tattoos travel all over his body, and I resist the urge to trace them and ask the meaning behind those tattoos.
My eyes travel all over his tattoos, soon making eye contact with him.
I immediately look away, my cheeks feeling hot.
I can't hold eye contact for the life of me.
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