His Naughty Lessons-Chapter 313: (Bonus Scene) A Drunken Night

** Tyler **

Emotional as the wedding ceremony might have been for the couple, the highlight of the day for their guests was no doubt the blast of a party. There was lots of drinking, dancing, drinking while dancing, and all the fortunate or unfortunate events that followed after too much of both.

From Tyler’s perspective, the fortunate ones included the overwhelming happiness he felt for his sister when she ended up crying again during First Dance, and the satisfaction over the amazing liquor selection that Eli must’ve put a fortune into for the reception. Both of which increasingly convinced him that this choice of a brother-in-law really wasn’t nearly as bad as he once thought, so even his best man’s speech became more improvisationally heartfelt, earning himself a strong man-hug from the groom that almost dislodged his shoulder.

The unfortunate ones, on the other hand, included getting spilled on twice with wine, getting stepped on three times by pointy heels, and overindulging in a few too many drinks that he could barely remember how he got back to his hotel room at the end of the dizzying night.

That was how he woke up the next morning — groggy, headachy from a hangover, though perfectly comfortable with piecemeal memories of how soft the hotel bed was and how silky smooth the blanket felt. He rubbed his eyes and stretched lazily, reaching for his clothes piled up on top of the other pillow on the king sized bed.

The pillow groaned.

Wait ...

???

Snapping out of his drunken grogginess, Tyler sprang up from under the blanket, and his head whipped to the other side of the bed. His mouth fell open when he saw the top of a blonde head poking out of the covers, buried snugly into the pillow beside him that should have been empty.

... The fuck?

His first reaction was to call hotel management and demand an answer as to why a stranger had suddenly appeared in his bed. But then pieces of last night flashed before his eyes, and—

Wait a second. Was the soft bed that he remembered to be so comfortable beneath him not actually the bed? Was the smooth blanket wrapped around him that was so silky to the touch not actually the blanket? Was—

Oh fuck. Fuck.

Tyler was still trying to wrap his head around the ridiculous situation presented in front of him, when the blonde head groaned again with a long yawn. A hand flipped out of the blanket, pulling down the cover to reveal a perfectly toned arm, a bare shoulder, a sexy collarbone, and a—

"Wait wait wait wait." Tyler hastily snatched the blanket, pulling it back up to the blonde’s face before it could reveal any more body parts that he wasn’t ready to see now that he was sober. Or mostly sober. Turning to scan around him, he quickly grabbed the bathrobe tossed on the nightstand and wrapped it over his own naked body.

He could only wish that this blonde wasn’t who he thought it was. A one-night-stand wasn’t something he was used to, but he had no issues treating it as a fun experience if it was just some random guest at the party who he wouldn’t ever see again. As long as it wasn’t—

"... Wait what?" A familiar voice came muffled from beneath the covers. "And why are you trying to suffocate me with the blanket? Did I not praise your skills enough last night that you want to silence me forever already?"

... Oh yeah. It so was who he thought it was.

"Aww, look at you all wrapped up." Chelsea poked her head out of the blanket, and she let out a disappointed sigh at the sight of him fully protected by a bathrobe. "Don’t be so shy, handsome. It’s not like I haven’t already seen everything I should see, and or should not see. And I’m certainly sober enough to remember it all."

... Well, that makes one of them.

Tyler was at a complete loss about what to say. Admit he was drunk and couldn’t remember how this even happened? Fuck, that was just such an asshole act that even Eli would give him a good punch to the gut. Pretend this was something he did on a regular basis and didn’t matter? Duh, that ship had sailed ever since his first conversation with this woman at the bar a year ago. And why did it have to be her, out of over a hundred people at the reception?

"Eh ..." He chose to awkwardly clear his throat and dodge that conversation altogether. For now. "Eh ... Do you want me to ... bring you clothes or something?"

Chelsea raised a pretty eyebrow at the question. Then she laughed. "Oh, since you offered so generously ..." Her tone was full of teases. "Thank you, I certainly wouldn’t mind if you could help me get those G-strings on the bottom of my suitcase. Feel free to pick whichever color you like ... And hey, don’t be shy again, you’ve already seen one last night, and you said you liked my style."

Tyler: "..."

How fucking drunk was he?!

Embarrassed by the request that he brought upon himself, Tyler looked away, scratching his head. It wasn’t until then, however, that he noticed the hot pink suitcase rolled against the wall, the multiple pairs of heels scattered on the floor, the makeup bag on the table overflowing with colorful powders and brushes ...

Ugh. Wait again.

No wonder she was talking suspiciously like this was her place ... Because it was! Apparently, this VIP suite with the exact same layout as his own and came with such a comfortable bed ... wasn’t actually his!

No wonder he couldn’t remember going back to his room last night. Because he never did. Because apparently, he was the one who followed a woman to her room at the end of a drunken night, climbed into her bed, claimed that he liked her choice of underwear, and then—

Ugh. He was fucked. A bit too literally fucked.