Hallie stirred and tried to roll over, her legs tangled in the sheets. Fuck, she thought. Her head felt like a lead balloon. It throbbed, a pounding ache running from the back of her skull around and up the sides to her temples. Her stomach felt queasy. Her teeth ached. Even her hair hurt. She was also tender in a couple other places that were not usually tender with JUST a hangover. Oh, fuck me, she thought.

When she opened her eyes, the dim light coming through the bedroom window made her head throb even harder and confirmed her suspicions. The snoring sound from the other side of the bed was not the television. It wasn't a dog. She didn't even own a dog, damn it. She became keenly aware that she was naked, the coolness of the sheet would have felt good against her skin were it not for the drums in her head and the fire in her stomach...and the ache, well, down "there." Those were nothing, however, when she compared it to the sting of embarrassment and shame as she also became keenly aware that she was not alone in her king-size bed.

She turned her head slowly, trying to see who was laying next to her without waking them up. Please let it be Kelly or Tracey or...any one of her other girlfriends. Please let me have spilled a beer down my shirt or thrown up or something just as stupid and let us have been both so drunk that I passed out in the shower. Please, please, please don't let this be a guy. Please, not a guy, she prayed to herself. At this point, the possibility of the a webcam-broadcast lesbian encounter with her boss and a German shepherd would be more desirable than to wake up to a strange guy in her bed...and she KNEW she wasn't attracted to girls...or dogs. Besides. Her boss was a guy...and still in the closet. But she knew, she just knew. Fuck me, she whispered.

Well, now what the fuck do I do? She thought, looking a the muscular guy laying next to her. Think think think, she told herself. Who is this guy? What's his name? Where did he come from? What happened last night? Did we...oh, god, we did, she said, squeezing her thighs together a little, oh, buddy, did we ever, she thought, almost wincing.

The sleeping man had his back to her, the sheet wrapped around his waist, over his hip and then over hers and under her ass, in effect, binding them together. Hallie could see his back, two tattoos stacked on his right side near his shoulder blade. He was muscular, with thick arms and wide shoulders. His close-cropped hair was matted and messy, dark in this light but probably medium brownish. He smelled like a mixture of cigarettes, liquor, sweat and...sex. She couldn't see his face and she started to panic, breathing a bit faster, her heart racing in her chest. Fuck fuck fuck! What did you do, she screamed at herself inside her pounding head. You don't even know this guy! What stupid things did you do? Hallie, WHAT have you DONE?

The sleeping form stirred and rolled over, facing her, throwing a leg over hers and pulling her in to him, his hand closing in on her breast, fingers rough against her soft skin. She looked up caught the faintest hint of a smile on his slightly-familiar face. Recognition. He was a drop-in at the bar she and her friends frequented. Not there enough to be considered a regular, but there occasionally. She'd never spoken to him directly, a nod once, maybe a 'scuse me' as they almost bumped into each other coming out of the restroom, but that was it. Ok, she let her breath out slowly, at least you recognize him.

He was handsome, in a rugged way, the sharp angles of his face softened by a slight goatee and now, covered with stubble all over. He had a mole near the corner of his upper lip. Hallie's hear skipped a beat as his hand flexed and he inhaled deeply. "Mmmmmm." he said moaned softly, still asleep

Hallie stopped breathing at that point. Oh God, oh God, oh God, her brain screamed. She willed herself not to blink. His hand moved again, his thumb brushing across her nipple. At that point, her body betrayed her and her nipple stiffened at his touch. No, she thought. What's his name? WHAT'S HIS NAME? her brain demanded. At that point, his eyes flew open. His hand didn't move a bit, but he opened his eyes wide, looking at her as she looked right into his face.

His eyes widened further and then he blinked. He became suddenly aware of the location of his hand and his face flushed uncontrollably. He licked his dry lips and cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving Hallie's. "Hey." he said softly. "You ok?"

"Uhm, yeah. You?" she said, keenly aware that he hadn't moved his hand an inch still.

He shook his head no slightly. Hallie returned his gaze. His eyes were crystal blue, the fact that they were slightly bloodshot made them appear even more striking. Oh, fuck, Hallie thought, no wonder I ended up here. She had always been a sucker for blue-eyed men. "Coffee." she said half-whispered. It was more of a statement than a suggestion.

"Yeah." he said, without blinking. "Or just shoot me." He looked deeply into her eyes. They were the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. Deep olive green with gold and light blue flecks. Her lashes were long and dark. Her skin was pale and clear, with a slight blush across her cheeks.

"You too?" she smiled a bit. He still hadn't moved his hand. He noticed that the corners of her eyes crinkled a bit when she smiled. "I feel like I've been hit by a train."

They just laid there for a couple minutes, looking eye to eye. Not moving. Not saying anything. Both of them trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle that was the previous night. Hallie kept looking into his eyes and losing her train of thought. Her heart was pounding rapidly now, so loud she was sure he could hear it. "I...I..." she said slowly, stumbling for words to fill the silence. "Tylenol's in the kitchen. I'll make coffee."

"Ok." he said quietly. He removed his hand and blushed. "Sorry." he said.

Hallie sat up and tried to pull the loose sheet around her to cover herself. She was obviously very uncomfortable. He raised his hips off the bed long enough for her to tug out the sheet, her hands shaking. A hand gently grabbed above her elbow. The blonde man sat up, stopping her exit long enough to brush her long hair behind her and kiss her shoulder softly. Hallie stopped and turned, looking at him. Without thinking, she smiled at his tender gesture and left the bed. He laid back on the pillows and covered his eyes with face with both hands.

Hallie went to the bathroom and made a brief inspection of herself while she peed. No bruises, no bite marks, no hickeys she could see. Everything still where it should be. Well, that was a relief. She washed up quickly and ran a brush quickly through her long hair, trying to get some of the tangles out. Standing on her tiptoes, she looked at her face in the mirror over the sink. Her normally pale skin was flushed. She wiped up the mascara smudges from under her lower lashes. She looked down her neck. Oh, fuck, she thought. At the base of her neck, where it met her shoulder, was a large purple mark. Ok. Breathe. It could be worse. You can hide this, she reassured herself.

Throwing on a robe, she opened the door from the bathroom to the kitchen and began mechanically to make a pot of coffee. She reached into the cabinet and removed the bottle of Tylenol, gulping down two tablets herself before setting it on the table. She leaned against the counter and closed her eyes, crossing her arms and squeezing them, as if trying to hug herself, reassure herself.

Brief images flashed across the screen behind her hot eyelids. Tequila bottle. Lime slices. Salt shakers. Giggling. Pool cues. The sound of billiard balls clicking. Leaning over the pool table, his body pressing against her, behind her, close. He breath hot on her neck. His hands on her hips, lifting her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. Hot, wet kisses with heavy tongues, parting, probing, seeking. Wrapping, twisting, twirling, moving down her neck slowly, stopping just above her collarbone, sucking, biting. Hands everywhere. Clothes everywhere. Cold sheets and warm body parts.

Hallie felt an uncontrollable warmth spreading up, moving towards her stomach slowly, like a wildfire fanned by a slow, steady breeze. Holy shit, she thought, what am I doing? She opened her eyes, hearing the far bathroom door close. Panic set it. What do I do? What do I say? She heard the toilet flush and the sink water turn on and off. The bathroom door opened slowly and he entered the kitchen, cautiously.

Daryl walked in and looked around. He'd found his shirt on the back of a chair in the bedroom and his pants at the foot of the bed. He wasn't able to find his boots, but he figured they were probably by the front door. She was startled by how tall he was-at least a foot taller than she was. He moved with quiet grace, stealth. Like a hunter moving through the forest. His feet seemed not to make a sound on the polished wood floor.

"Almost done." she said, her voice dry. She moved to the drainer for two clean coffee mugs. "You want something to eat?"

"No. Thanks." he said, moving to the table and pulling out a chair.

"I...uhm..." Hallie stammered as the pot shot up a final burst of steam towards the ceiling, giving up it's last bit of the scorching liquid with a final loud gurgle, punctuated by a loud hiccup. She poured him a cup and sat it down in front of him. She returned and poured one for herself and leaned back against the cupboard.

"Thanks." he said, looking up at her sheepishly.

"Thanks, Hallie." she said, looking into the blue stoneware cup to avoid his even-bluer eyes. "You're welcome."

"You're welcome, Daryl." he said, blowing on the steam rising from the mug.

Well, that was pretty cool, the thought, she was trying to take the pressure off of neither one of them remembering the other's name.

He looked at her closely. She was tiny-probably no more than five foot tall. Her hair was dark red, long tousled curls framed her pale face. The think robe was tied with a belt and he could see she was curvy in the right places, with big boobs and a round ass. He vaguely remembered the feel of that ass in his hands. Perfect, he thought. Don't blow this, his mind screamed. Don't fuck this up.

"You probably wanna talk." he said, afraid of what she was going to say.

"Not really." she said quietly, crossing the kitchen and scooting into the chair opposite him. "I'm just really...I...uhm...oh, fuck!" she said, rolling her eyes.

This girl just said fuck! Holy shit! he thought. He watched her put her head down and blush broadly. He sat there, allowing her to pull her thoughts together.

"I'm just...embarrassed. I don't do this." she waved a hand between the two of them. "This just isn't me." she said quietly. "Please don't take this personally, but I don't remember a lot about last night. About...what we...you and me..." her cheek were red through the dark curls. "I think I was really, really drunk." She reached a hand up and with her thumb and middle finger scooped her hair backwards from her hairline to the crown of her head, clearing the locks that were hanging down in front hiding her pretty face. She looked directly at him. "How drunk were you?" she said plainly.

"Pretty damn." he nodded, looking at his cup.

"Is this as awkward for you as it is for me?" she asked, her eyes searching his now.

"Yeah." he smiled and looked up at her, his head still down. " 'pparently neither one of us is used ta' bein' a slut."

Hallie looked at him, her mouth dropping open. She blinked twice and then clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the screech of her laughter.

Daryl watched her, fascinated. He remembered seeing her in Pete's Bar often and thought she was cute, but never really gave a second thought to striking up a conversation, let alone asking her for her number. He just didn't have time or patience for a lot of women. She was always with a group of other women, but he remembered her standing out. Maybe it was her height, maybe it was her dark hair and those deep green eyes against her pale skin, maybe it was because she seemed so...different than the other girls she was with. More serious. Not as rowdy. Definitely not as...easy.

"Now I know why I boinked you." she said pointing her finger at him, still smiling. "I'll be you made me laugh, didn't you?"

"Oh. Yeah. I made you laugh." he grinned. "Several times." he said, blowing again on his coffee, a twinkle in his eye.