Chapter 6

When Barbara woke up, she had a disgusting, furry taste in her mouth, and she felt as if someone was hitting her head with a hammer. Repeatedly.

Something had to be wrong, she told herself, as she blinked against the dim light, which crept in through two windows that did not belong to her room.

She slowly disentangled herself from a melee of pillows and duvets, put a trembling hand on her belly, and sat up at a snail’s pace, registering her disorientation and the fact that she didn’t recognize this room at all. She looked around and wondered what she was doing in this strange bed. Though her eyelids felt painfully grainy, she studied the furniture while her brain managed to formulate panic-inducing suggestions of how she might have gotten here, and why she couldn’t remember a thing.

The lump in her throat grew bigger. There were all too many stories of female students waking up somewhere without any memory of getting there. She lowered her head and pushed the dark gray duvet aside, only to see that she was wearing a frayed white dress. That finally made her remember that she had gone to a Halloween party with James.

James.

Her eyes roamed the room once again, and she recognized his leather jacket hanging over the back of a chair, his books on the messy desk, and photos of him and his family pinned to the frame of a mirror on top of a dresser.

Oh, God!

Barbara had not only discovered the mirror, but also her reflection in it. She stared at the image in shock. She looked like a hag, a witch! Her dark brown hair was still partly red, matted, and looked as if she’d teased it by sticking a finger in an outlet. Her face was blotchy, which was the makeup’s fault. The mascara was smudged around her eyes, and her lips looked as if she’d had a botched surgery, the remains of the pink lipstick all around her mouth.

While she was still wondering who might have seen her like this, the door opened noiselessly, and James stepped in. He was wearing nothing but boxers and a T-shirt and holding two cups of coffee. And he didn’t seem to have noticed that she was awake and staring at him in something akin to fright as he tiptoed into the room and pushed the door closed with his bare foot. It shut with a soft click.

When he turned toward the bed, he realized Barbara was back amongst the living. Apparently, he couldn’t refrain from greeting her with a grin.

“Hey, you’re awake.” He set the mugs on his nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Barbara opened her mouth and croaked in a voice like a garbage disposal, “Horrible.”

“I think it could have been worse, though.” James ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Before I came to bed last night,” he revealed gently, “I made you take two Tylenol and some water. So your hangover shouldn’t be too bad.”

She swallowed hard. “Did I sleep here?”

James shrugged one shoulder. “I briefly considered getting you to your room, but I didn’t want to leave you alone in the state you were in.”

She knit her brows in irritation, feeling the pain in her forehead double in reaction. “The state I was in?”

“You were completely wasted,” he explained with an expression of loving concern. “I heard you knocked back about fifty ounces of beer in less than ten minutes. That’s more than four cans. I’ve already given the guys a piece of my mind for encouraging you and giving you a never-ending supply.”

She stared at James with wide eyes, her jaw dropping as she processed that information.

She couldn’t remember drinking that much of anything, nor being awake enough to swallow pills, or that James had slept next to her in his bed. She had no memory of any of it.

She groaned and put a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes for a moment. “Oh, God.”

“Well.” His voice sounded amused, and he put his hand on her arm and stroked it reassuringly. “The party was over quickly for you, which maybe wasn’t so bad. People were a bit wild downstairs, and we have several broken windows now. I’m sure that was the last party in this house for quite a while.”

“Wonderful,” Barbara mumbled, wanting to pull the covers over her head. “Must have been an awesome party for you if you spent it taking care of your intoxicated girlfriend.”

“That’s okay,” James replied cheerfully. “You were very cute, snoring away in my bed, and then waking me up in the middle of the night so I could take you to the bathroom.”

“What?”

Apparently, he thought her shock was cute as well, for she could see the laugh lines deepen in his face. “Don’t you remember waking up in a panic because you thought you were going to wet the bed? I mean, after all that beer …”

“Oh, God!” She buried her face in her hands and fell backward onto the mattress. Her hangover was completely forgotten—she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her.

“Hey.” She could feel the mattress wobble as James lay down next to her and wrapped an arm around her midriff. “I don’t know what’s so wrong with that. You were so damn cute in your costume, hopping down the hallway—”

“Please, James,” she interrupted in a whimper. “I’m dying of embarrassment.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He pulled her hands away from her face and took her chin, turning her face toward him. “Last night was fine, and also very illuminating.”

She opened her eyes reluctantly and looked into his face, which was right in front of hers now. “Illuminating?”

“Oh, yes.” His thumb stroked her chin, while his eyes bored into hers. “I found out some things about you.”

She swallowed once again and ignored the dull ache in her head. “Like what?”

The corners of his mouth curled into a smile. He scooted closer and pulled his duvet over both of them. Even though Barbara felt as if she’d been hit by a semi and knew she looked terrible, the sensation of lying so close to James was still electrifying. Tentatively, she put her right hand on his chest and licked her dry lips.

“First off, you make a perfect Wilma Flintstone and look stunning with a plastic bone in your hair.”

“Thanks a lot,” Barbara murmured.

“And second, I now know that it’s damn cheap to get you drunk—”

“That’s not funny, James!” she sniffled haughtily. “I have a bad hangover.”

“Oh, I bet you do.” He chuckled gleefully and pulled her even closer. “Plus, I learned you snore and talk in your sleep. But I found that very charming.”

She groaned pitifully and squeezed her eyes shut. “And I look like a witch this morning! Why didn’t you take me home? At least then you wouldn’t have seen me like this.”

“I don’t want to spoil your great mood, but you should know, while you looked really cute as Wilma Flintstone, you’re really killing it as the Wicked Witch of the West this morning.”

Barbara groaned. “You’re only saying that to keep me from having a full-on meltdown.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck. She couldn’t have said whether it was to keep him from looking into her smeared and smudged face, or whether she just wanted to be close to him. Either way, it felt good to lie so close to him, feel his warm body against hers, and inhale his scent.

“Speaking of having a meltdown,” he continued gently, “I’d be really thankful if you didn’t get wasted next time we go out. At least, not because you think you have to sleep with me to keep me from breaking up with you.”

Her face was still pressed against his skin, but she opened her eyes wide and gasped in shock. “What?”

His arms wrapped around her torso. “When I tucked you into bed, you wanted to sleep with me “to get it over with,” as you said.” His voice was gentle as he asked, “Why the hell would you think I’d break up with you just because we haven’t had sex yet?”

Her face was probably beet red. She’d frozen in his embrace. “Please, shoot me now, James.”

“Come on,” he whispered against her hair. “It’s just you and me. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. That includes the fact that you’re still a virgin.”

The feeling of an impending doom grew with every passing second. “I’m never drinking alcohol again,” Barbara vowed fervently. “I’m so embarrassed right now!”

“Listen to me.” James’s voice was grave now. “We really should talk about this, Barbara. If you think I’m pressuring you to have sex with me, I—”

“That’s not it, James. Honestly.” Though she wanted to burrow into a hole in the ground right then and there, she tilted her head back to look into his eyes. His attractive face held an expression of concern, and that came as a strange relief for her.

“Then what makes you think I’d dump you over something like that?”

She took a shaky breath. “Last night … Last night I heard two of your frat brothers talking about another friend dumping his girlfriend … He broke up with her because she hadn’t slept with him in three weeks. Three weeks, James.” She swallowed hard. “We’ve been together two months!”

“So what?”

“So what?” Her shoulders stiffened. “You probably think I’m a terrible tease! Or a prude!”

“I don’t get it.” He shook his head earnestly. “Why would I think that?”

“Think of last time …” She avoided his eyes. “When we were in my bed and … and I asked you to stop when … you know.”

“Jesus, Barbara.”

His voice sounded amused, and that made her furious. “I’m not a prude, James! I don’t want to wait until I’m married to have sex, but … but my first time shouldn’t be in a dorm where some random people are playing Xbox next door.”

For a few moments, he didn’t say anything. When he spoke again, Barbara’s nerves were on edge, but his voice sounded casual. “If that’s the case, it shouldn’t be at a Halloween frat party either, should it? In a Wilma Flintstone dress, to boot.”

Instead of commenting on that, she professed, “James, I wanted to experience my first time with someone I trust, someone I feel comfortable with, who I’m in love with … And you are that someone …”

“But?”

Barbara hoped this confession wouldn’t ruin everything. “But I don’t want to just get it over with quickly. I want … I want it to be romantic and—”

He cut her off by taking her head into his hands and rolling over with her, so she was on top of him. She stared into his face, breathless and still, while his eyes first fixed on her lips, then studied every inch of her face, before finally boring into her eyes.

“If you want a romantic encounter, that is what we’ll have, but only when you feel the time is right.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing down and back up. Then his melodic voice became husky. “You’re charming, smart, and bewitching … and I’m utterly in love with you, Barbara. If you want to wait, we’ll wait. I don’t care if it’s three weeks, two months, or a whole year. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, and then gave in to the urge to press a kiss to his lips.

James stood outside Barbara’s lecture hall with two cups of coffee, waiting for her to emerge from her last class before lunch. Though she had no idea he was waiting for her, he knew precisely when she’d be done, because he now knew her schedule as well as his own.

As soon as he’d processed that thought, she came sauntering out of the large room with a few books under her arm, looking a lot better than the day before but still somewhat under the weather. Two days after the Halloween party, she was still feeling the effects. Even after they’d spent most of yesterday in his bed, with Barbara suffering from her massive hangover.

When she spied him, he raised his head and nodded, half amused and half pitying. He took her books from her, put one of the coffee cups in her hand, and gave her a kiss, before wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “How was class?”

Barbara’s face was still rather pale, and she smelled her coffee before taking a hesitant sip. “My skull still feels like someone split it open,” she murmured.

“Poor darling.” He made a pitying sound and pressed a kiss to her temple, then led her to one of the many courtyards outside the building, where they sat down on a stone bench. This was such a remote corner of campus that they felt completely undisturbed. “So I take it your lecture wasn’t very exciting?”

“I suppose it actually was rather interesting,” Barbara replied with a sigh. “Unfortunately, I didn’t hear a lot of what was said. I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.”

James giggled boisterously. “Next weekend, there’s a big party—”

“I’d rather stick a fork in my eyeball,” Barbara cut him off. Then she surprised him by taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. Her voice softened as she whispered, “Thank you for letting me stay yesterday.”

“There’s no need to thank me for that,” James replied, though he felt his chest expand with happiness.

She shook her head a little. “Yes, there is. It’s not like it was a matter of course, James. You could have sent me home instead of suffering through my whining for the rest of the day. I’m sure I was horrible to be with.”

That was an exaggeration. James had felt very cozy indeed when Barbara had taken a quick shower and put on one of his T-shirts and an old pair of his boxers. Then they’d settled into bed to watch TV for most of the day.

“You’re anything but horrible,” he declared calmly. “Plus, you looked damn hot in my boxers.”

He was delighted when she reacted with a chuckle before sipping from her coffee cup.

“Right, I can just imagine how hot I was with those panda eyes and that matted hair. Oh my God, my hair was even more of a rat’s nest after I took a shower. I shouldn’t have attempted it.”

Amused, James rolled his eyes. “I did warn you I don’t own any conditioner or whatever you women can’t seem to live without.”

“Maybe I should stash a few things at your place,” Barbara said casually, “so I don’t have to make do with your shampoo and smell like a man.”

James wasn’t sure which was greater—his absolute shock or his utter delight. Most of his buddies would have fainted with fright if a woman had announced she wanted to leave a toothbrush or a bottle of shampoo in their bathroom, but James didn’t feel that way at all. Still, he tried to play it cool.

He made a show of smelling her hair. “You don’t smell like a man at all.”

Her green eyes flashed a wink. “Of course I don’t. I showered again this morning.” Before he could reply, she changed the subject abruptly. “My mom texted me this morning.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded with a sigh. “About Thanksgiving. She wants me to come home, especially since Patrick isn’t coming this year …”

“But?”

Her face was grave when she looked at him. “But I actually wanted to stay here—with you. It’s not a long enough weekend, considering I’d spend six hours on a plane each way. And I have a written exam the week after anyway.”

The corners of his mouth quirked with good-natured mirth. “Your mom must miss you an awful lot. My parents insisted I come home my first semester.”

“Still,” she murmured with a hint of defiance. “I was looking forward to staying here with you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” James said gently. “I should study anyway. Finally read up on all the stuff I haven’t done because of you.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Because of me?”

“Of course.”

“You’ll have to explain,” Barbara insisted playfully, as she scooted closer to his side. The fact that her hand strayed to his thigh made his heart skip a beat or two. “Do you regret spending so much time with me?” she prodded in mock seriousness, before interlacing her fingers with his.

“Do I look like a man who regrets anything?”

She giggled and shook her head, then guffawed. “No, you look like a man still dreaming of attending clown college.”

James groaned and rolled his eyes. “Why did I ever lend you my boxers?”

She kissed him on the cheek and whispered into his ear, “Because they look better on me. According to you.”

“Right.” He nodded earnestly. “That’s true though.”