The next morning, Sinclair's Duplex.
"Argh."
A raspy groan shot through Miles' throat the moment sunlight reached past the blinds and pierced his eyes. Shifting abruptly from its reach, he shut his eyes to ease the ache.
Groaning as he sat up, a yawn he couldn't suppress caused his mouth to open wide before he could take a proper look at his familiar surroundings—his room.
"Hmmm?"
He hummed in confusion, lowering his hand from his eyes to rub his nose slightly.
"What—"
Just as he was about to mutter the word, memories of last night vividly played in his mind, and he speechlessly dropped his hand.
"Fuck, it was a total disaster."
Grabbing the nearest pillow, he threw it at the door, feeling vexed about how things had turned out simply because he hadn't made his move on Josephine.
'Perhaps if she had known about my peculiar interest, things would have turned out the opposite.'
