Chapter Three - Sexual Healing

No-one looks better the morning after sex than Emma Watson.

‘Seriously,’ you call out. ‘Fucking no one.’

Emma glances back over her shoulder, looking embarrassed. ‘Oh, stop it, you. I’m in a t-shirt and jeans. Not exactly sexy.’

You just shake your head, grinning. ‘You seriously have no idea, do you?’

Emma can’t stop herself from smiling. ‘Oh, hush.’

You lie back, content to watch her fiddle with her make-up bag. You’re only half-dressed, anyway; no sense in rushing things.

If last night’s taught you anything, it’s taught you that.

Last night…

You feel a stupidly big smile breaking out over your face again. ‘You sure you have to leave?’

‘Oh…’ Emma turns, looking fondly at you. ‘I do honestly wish I didn’t, but yes. Being in movies does have its downsides, occasionally.’

‘That’s all right.’ You sink into the pillows again, just enjoying the sight of her, and especially the way her arse curves in the mirror. ‘I’m sure I’ll get over it. Eventually.’

Emma shakes her head, turning back to her bag. ‘I’m sure you will.’

‘Yeah.’ A line from a song floats into your head, and you can’t help yourself. ‘Don’t worry. I live my life like my blood type.’

Emma squints, only half-paying attention. ‘Eh?’

‘B positive.’

She rolls her eyes, but can’t help sniggering. ‘That’s fucking atrocious and you should be ashamed.’

*

You’re walking on air as you jump the last few stairs down to the hotel lobby, and flash a wide grin at the startled receptionist. (You feel like yelling, ‘guess where I’ve been!’, but somehow you don’t think it would go down all that well.) The blocks pass by in a blur, the sun is shining, and you don’t have much of a plan except a nice walk down to the local burger joint, and maybe some breakfast to start the day off…

Then a shadow falls unexpectedly across your path, and you look up, the tune you’ve been humming dying suddenly under your breath.