A/N: Chapter two!

It takes everything I have to crack an eye open. And when I say open, I mean still pretty closed, but open enough to let some light access to my pupil and send a smudgy blur through my optical nerves and to my brain.

My head hurts. Bad.

I roll onto my back, hoping not to meet anything on my way to the rest of the mattress.

Oh.

My back hurts.

My legs hurt.

My feet hurt.

I hurt, basically.

My shoulder just came down to rest on something warm. It might be another shoulder, but I'd need to look to be really sure, and I don't think my neck feels up to turning my head just yet. Plus, my eyes feel too good closed. So I just stay like that. On my back, in pain. Oh, and probably stark naked too.

I guess it's a good thing I'm in a bed. It means I'm wanted there. Or I've been wanted there very recently, and I'm not required to leave the premises yet. Usually I wake up in a car, on a couch or in some stranger party-helder's bathroom, or I just don't go to sleep before I get home, where I don't go anywhere further than the living room carpet, so my current location suits me just fine.

This bed is comfortable. More than mine, really, and that's saying something because I tested every mattress in the store before settling down on the most plush and pleasant. And the covers here smell so good. From experience, any college guy's bed set ends up reeking after a few days out of the wash. Maybe this one's freshly cleaned. That'd be a first, catching a guy who just did his laundry. I'm not complaining, though. After the mind-boggling number of four times I've ever woken up in a bed that wasn't mine, I'm glad this one doesn't stink of indescribable stuff, let alone stink at all.

And it feels like heaven with pillows and a down comforter, so that's a plus.

The warm thing against my shoulder is officially not a human limb. It's furry. And breathing. Gathering some strength I doubt I have, I turn my head to my other side, now awake enough to care what I'm sharing this godly bed with. Through my still blurry vision, I decipher the shape of a dark fur ball. It's only when I poke it with a lazy finger that a cat head detaches from the base and stares back at me with wide startled eyes.

I debate whether I should cuddle with it or not, considering its undeniably immense cuteness, but also the fact that it doesn't know me and might scratch or bite me. I'd hate to spill blood on this perfect bed, and the adorability of this cat is not worth it.

The little furry doesn't leave me much of a choice, however. As soon as I move my hand again, it jumps to its paws and dashes off the bed as if I were coming at it with a frying pan and a recipe for cat soup. My eyes are not quick enough to follow the kitty's course, so instead they just refocus on what's lying behind its previous spot.

Eyes.

Black eyes.

Or maybe a dark shade of another colour, but it's hard to tell right now, through the fog that's still filling my brain. The point is that there is a pair of dark eyes staring at me, and those eyes are situated right smack in the middle of the most handsome face I have ever been given the honour of looking at.

Oh, right. I exchanged saliva with that face, last night. Among other things.

I concentrate on staring back with all my might until I realise the face – which is most likely still attached to the rest of Sasuke's (fabulous) male body I frolicked with a few hours ago – is smiling at me. Well, more like smirking, but it's a soft smirk, nothing mocking. It's really small, too. It's sweet.

And man, it makes his face even more attractive, if that's possible. I suddenly feel the need to kiss him. Like, really bad. For no reason, except that he's hot.

I refrain myself, though, and instead let my gaze roam the rest of his supreme being. He's lying on his back, like me, with his head turned my way. Apparently, I pulled all of the comforter to myself in my sleep, because only the bed sheet covers him from the hips down. I think he arranged it that way before I woke up, but I won't judge. I would've done that too, had I woken up before him.

My mind lingers on his perfect abs and chest for a while, while I wonder how I was lucky enough to end up sleeping next to such a guy, until I remind myself that he's still smirking at me.

"What are you smiling about?" I can't even muster a smile of my own or at least a pleasant tone to ask my question with.

"Nothing much," he says without losing his smile.

"Well, stop smiling, then." I didn't really intend to be that harsh.

"I can't. You're too pretty."

Oh no.

"I wish I could wake up to that more often."

No no no no no. This is not happening.

He can't have fallen in love with me. He shouldn't even like me that way. I promised myself I wouldn't get in a real relationship after the disaster with my last boyfriend. I did nothing last night to make him want to have a long term thing with me. Was that what he meant when he said I'd have all the space I want to dance around naked? Did that imply a regular visit on my part?

No, I don't want to. Regular is never good. You get bored, and you cheat, and then when she finds out, you act like it's her fault and you break up with her right before her birthday. I'm not going through this again.

I should've woken up earlier. In fact, right now, I should get dressed and leave, while I still can. I know what this man is capable of and I know he can make me stay if I spend one more minute in his bed.

"I gotta go," I blurt out before pushing the comforter aside and sitting up to try and locate my clothes. I barely miss his smirk sliding off his face.

"Wait, what? Where are you going?" He asks, sitting up.

"Home."

"Why?"

"I was supposed to go back last night, I already shipped my luggage." That's a blatant lie – well, the first part, anyway – but I don't really owe him the truth.

"So you can't stay." His tone is almost pleading.

"So I can't stay," I confirm, feeling worse about the situation than I should. I pull my dress up my body and zip it halfway, just so it doesn't fall off and so I don't have to battle it again, then search my purse for an elastic.

"Again, why?" He's gotten up now, and he's walking to me, the sheet still around his hips. I sigh, irritated, and pull my hair into the messiest ponytail of my existence.

"Did you think you and I were gonna wake up this morning and be hopelessly in love with each other? Did you even think for a second that last night, I hooked up with you because I wanted you to be my boyfriend?"

"No. But-"

"Good. Then we're on the same page." I pick up my shoes and stomp out the door. I haven't reached the bottom of the stairs – there are stairs that lead to his room – that he catches up to me, now wearing a pair of boxers and a shirt.

"Don't you at least want to eat something?" He asks, gripping my arm.

"Why are you pushing this?"

"I'm not. I'm just trying to be a good host."

"You don't have to, I'm leaving right this minute, if you would just let go of me."

He hesitates for a moment, then releases my arm.

"Fine," he says. "Do it your way."

I rush down the stairs, through the lobby and to the door. I shove my sore feet in my shoes and yank the door open...

Then I freeze.

In every meaning of the term.

Outside, on the porch and the front lawn, a thick layer of white, fluffy snow that definitely wasn't there last night covers every square centimetre, huge, puffy snowflakes are falling from the cloud-covered sky and an excruciatingly cold wind blows everything through the door towards me. Before I know it, Sasuke is standing next to me, a new smirk on his face.

"I was going to offer you clean clothes and a ride home after breakfast, but if you really want to walk, it's up to you."

I hate this guy.

No matter how good he is in bed.

He had a chauffeur – no matter how I pronounce it, it still sounds snobbish – drive me home after the biggest breakfast I've had the opportunity to have and a couple of Advils. I refused to be given any clothes of his, so he got me a pair of his mom's tights, to keep my legs warm (he says), an old pair of boots (ugly 90's things, too big for me), a new-looking sweater that I doubt will ever keep me warm in the weather outside and a pretty wool scarf he says is a gift from his grandmother. And with that, I was out the door.

Luckily, my school isn't in the same town as my house. I wouldn't want to cross him during my Christmas holidays. At least I won't go near his mansion for a whole month and a half, and he was probably only a guest at the formal, so I won't be seeing any of him again.

Ever.

A/N: Ooh, foreshadowing.