Helga Pataki woke up groaning. She was sore everywhere and her head was pounding. "What the hell did I do last night?"
The answer came quicker than she wanted when she felt an arm lazily draped on her waist.
The sleepiness left her body then. She studied the arm silently staring at the long blonde hairs there. Did she bring them back to her hotel? Did they do anything?
Deciding to get some answers she lifted the sheet praying she was still fully clothed.
Her prayer when unanswered as she looked down. She felt she was cursed when she found salt in her bellybutton.
She couldn't concentrate with the implications of what happened last night. Helga prided herself on being cautious and this was far from cautious. Closing her eyes she whispered into the quiet room. "Shit." She had a bad feeling about coming here. She knew something like this was going to happen.
She was only supposed to be here for Lila and Gerald's wedding, which Lila begged her to attend for months. She finally relented and now regretted that decision wholeheartedly. After graduating high school she vowed to erase every memory of Hillwood from her mind, especially a certain football-headed boy she spent most of her young adult life obsessing over and an ex-fiancée she left brokenhearted. Which is why when the mystery man grumbled in his sleep and turned toward her, she could have sworn she forgot how to breathe. "Shit." She held her head now, trying to stop the room from spinning. This must be a dream. She couldn't be this stupid. There's no way she would have done that with Arnold. She closed her eyes a little as the sunlight peeked through the large window.
She ran a hand through her curly blonde locks and took a deep breath. Okay, so it didn't look good, but maybe nothing happened. She was known to strip when she was drunk, which is another reason she hated drinking. Maybe she took her clothes off and fell asleep. It wouldn't explain the soreness but it definitely explained the nakedness. There was really only one way to find out if her suspicions were true. She peered over at his resting form and wondered if she should peek under the covers and see if he was naked too. After warring with herself a few minutes she decided against it. Besides what would she say if he woke up in the middle of her staring? She'd look like a pervert for sure. She didn't need to risk it.
Helga figured in this situation, denial was best. Nothing happened—she drank, started to take her clothes off and Arnold being the gentleman that he is walked her to her hotel room so she wouldn't be taken advantage of. It sounded legit enough to her.
Wrong. She winced as she swung her legs out of the bed and felt the unmistakable crunch of a condom wrapper at her feet. Looking down she counted three discarded wrappers strewn by her bedside and she needn't look further than the TV for her panties which hung off of one of the sides, proudly displayed like a flag. Looking around the room she saw various items of clothing thrown everywhere—by the door, next to the bed, on the desk, sitting on one of the bed posts. Shit. Delusion long forgotten there was no way her and Arnold didn't have sex last night.
Finally taking some action, she decided to tiptoe out of the bed, gather her clothes and bolt from the scene. Maybe she could hide out in Patty's room until she came up with a good excuse for him sleeping in her bed. She was nearly out the door when an object that flickered in the sunlight caught her eye and stopped her dead in her tracks. She forgot how to move, couldn't even close her mouth because when she finally focused on the object, she realized it was a wedding band on Arnold's ring finger. Shit.