Request for Nadine and Mike for the prompt: "I know you told me to stop thinking about you, but I can't get you out of my mind."

"So. Waffles?"

She huffed, and tried to kick start her brain and her body back into gear. Her head was killing her. "I have to get to work," she muttered, and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. Of all the stupid...

Mike's arm stretched across her body as he pointed. "Shower's through there. Fresh towels are on the shelf behind the door."

She forced herself to roll out of bed (like sleeping on a cloud, goddamn) and pad over to the bathroom, stark naked. She wasn't in the habit of feeling self-conscious of her body, and apparently he'd already seen everything she had to offer anyway so she wasn't bothered in the least.

She could feel his eyes on her ass the whole way.

"Coffee at least?" he called after her. "Or tea?"

"I have to get to work," she repeated senselessly, and shut the bathroom door firmly behind her.

Nadine felt much better after a hot shower and freshly brushed teeth (she'd used her finger because there was no way she was going to rifle through Mike's things in search of an unopened toothbrush). When she emerged from the bathroom in a fluffy towel, the bedroom was empty. She was prepared to hunt around for her clothes from the night before, but it seemed there was no need. They were hanging up on the closet door, right in her line of sight so she couldn't miss it.

She put everything back on except her underwear, which she folded up and stuffed into her pocket as she tried not to think about the way Mike had taken them off her. Stupid.

She wondered if he was going to gloat over this. If he'd hold it over her head or something.

He hadn't gloated last night, though. He'd been a little too busy for that.

Don't think about it.

Nadine remembered more or less everything that happened last night, from her first drink with the staff (that goddamn shot of Fireball, as if they were all college co-eds and not working professionals) to the final drink at last call (a glass of Macallan which Mike had bought her, insisting that the occasion warranted the extravagance), to the Uber back to his place and all the extracurricular activities that had followed.

She didn't remember who propositioned who, but she did remember making out with him in the back of the rideshare like a pair of horny teenagers. And she remembered following him into his bedroom, shedding clothes along the way and nearly tripping over her own slacks in their haste to get them off her body. She remembered the smell of his cologne, his sweat. She remembered him getting on his knees, dragging her underwear down...

Really don't think about that.

Nadine picked up her phone from the nightstand and ordered an Uber back to her condo, trying not to wince at the surge pricing. At least half of DC slept somewhere that wasn't their own home last night, and it was evident in the number of people trying to find their way back in the cold light of day. At least the drivers were out in full force this morning.

Ten minutes.

She scooped up her jewelry from the bedside table and put it all back on before leaving the bedroom she had no intention of ever seeing again.

Nadine went downstairs and took one wrong turn and had to backtrack before she found her way to the living room. She looked through to the kitchen, where Mike was busying himself with what looked like a much more elaborate breakfast than any normal person had on a weekday. He was wrapped in a blue bathrobe and his hair no longer stuck out in ten directions.

She made her way over cautiously, and he looked up at the sound of her footsteps. "Can you stay for breakfast? I have coffee, waffles, eggs, fresh fruit."

"No, I'm already running behind." She glanced nervously at her watch. "I just called a ride. I have to go home and change, and there's something brewing in Iran..."

"Okay," he said easily. He reached for a travel mug that sat on the counter and walked it over to her, pressing it into her hands. Like he'd been expecting her to run out on him at her first opportunity. "Black coffee. I know you prefer tea, but this will put you back together again after a night full of debauchery." He grinned, looking boyish and naughty and gleeful. "How's your head?"

"Never had any complaints," she muttered. The quip came automatically, was out before she even had a chance to police it and when Mike's grin only became wider, she regretted saying it.

"If your performance last night was any measure, then no, I don't imagine you would," he said. She could tell from his face that he was recalling the moment with relish. "God, I think—"

"Do not finish that sentence," she warned him.

It didn't deter his smile at all, though he did drop the subject. "Need any Advil?" he asked instead.

"I'll be fine." She checked her driver's status on her phone and then, remembering her manners again, added, "Thank you." Her driver was two minutes away.

"Can we do this again sometime?"

"Absolutely not."

"If you ever change your mind..."

"Never going to happen."

"I'm just saying—"

"Forget it, Mike."

"I don't think I'd be able to forget it if I tried," he said. Oh, he was teasing her now.

She glared at him. A lesser man would have withered on the spot, but Mike barely even blinked. "Try harder," she quipped. Her phone chimed, saving them both. "My Uber is here."

He pointed to her shoes, which she remembered kicking off last night on their blind stumble through the living room. They were now lined up neatly against the baseboard.

As she slipped into her shoes and slung her handbag over one shoulder, Mike switched tactics. "Can I bring you lunch today?"

"I already have lunch plans." She smiled at him, false and sweet. "Thanks for the company last night." She slipped out the door before he could try another approach.

/

The first time he called her, she watched the phone ring without picking it up. She listened to the voicemail almost immediately, though.

"Hey, it's Mike. Listen, uh, I know you told me to stop thinking about you, but I can't get you out of my mind." He chuckled dryly and it sounded... nervous?

Nadine shook her head. The notion was ridiculous—Mike B didn't get nervous.

"Anyway, uh, call me back when you get this. I'd love to hear from you. ...Bye."

Sighing, she pulled the phone away from her ear. She stared at the voicemail recording for a hesitant moment, then deleted it.

He wasn't her type, anyway.