I awoke to the sound of my coffee maker gurgling. I sat up and stretched and rubbed the sleep-scum out of my eyes. “Unnggf,” I said.

“You make a habit of sleeping on the couch?”

I managed to pry my eyes open and looked toward the kitchen. Stormy was at the counter, rummaging through the cupboards. Her hair was tied back haphazardly and she wore no makeup. She was wearing nothing but one of Monster’s old t-shirts, but it did the job; the shirt hung to her knees and draped her like a circus tent. She was gorgeous in that way that only women in their early twenties can be first thing in the morning.

“Where are your coffee mugs?” she said.

“Far left cupboard, top shelf,” I said.

“Fuck,” Stormy said. She opened the cupboard and stood on tiptoes and just managed to snag a couple of mugs. “World’s not built for short people,” she said.

“Not that I’m not thrilled to see you,” I said, “but how did you get into my apartment?”

“Miguel gave me his spare key before he went to work,” Stormy said.

“Miguel?”

“Miguel. Miguel Arroyo? Monster?”

“Oh,” I said. I realized I’d never actually bothered to find out Monster’s real name. I was a little horrified at myself.

“So I thought I’d come on up and make some coffee and you could explain why the hell I had to drive all the way to this podunk county at three in the goddamn morning,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m really sorry about all of this.”

Stormy flashed me a grin entirely too sunny for this early in the morning. “It’s okay,” she said. “It turned into a great night later on.”

I was still too fuzzy-headed to get the implication. “Huh?” I said.

Stormy just looked at me. Her grin widened.

“Oh,” I said. “Oh. Umm … wow. Okay.”

Stormy looked hard at me. “Is that judgment I hear, buddy?” she said. “Because I’m an adult. I like sex, I like Miguel, and it’s really none of your goddamn business who I fuck or when I fuck or how long I wait to do it.”

“What?” I said. “Oh, shit. No. Believe me, I don’t give a damn about your sex life. It’s just … well, you and Monster. I was just trying to figure out how that would even work.”

She stared at me for a minute. Then she started laughing. Howling, really. She leaned against the counter and clutched her stomach and bellowed. “Believe me,” she managed at last, “I had the same thought last night. We figured it out.”

I got off the couch and shambled over to the kitchen and took one of the coffee mugs from Stormy. I filled it to the brim and took a long swallow. It burned going down, but I needed it. Stormy poured one for herself and leaned against the counter, regarding me over the lip of her mug. She took her coffee black, I noticed. Another reason to be jealous of Monster.

I must have been staring. She raised an eyebrow and grinned and said, "Don’t go fallin’ for me, shamus. I’m bad news."

"Huh? Sorry, long night," I said. "And ’shamus?’ No one talks like that."