Chapter Two
The sun crept through the blinds, hitting my eyes with such intensity I turned my face into the pillow. Henry’s arm draped over my body, and the heat of his bare chest seeped through the thin shirt I wore. I relaxed against him. It had been so long since he’d held me like this.
Too long.
Like a year.
Oh shit.
Every muscle tightened. Who was this guy snuggling me? I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to know where I was. And I certainly didn’t want to know whose arm was holding me. No, not at all. This was a dream. A horrible dream. I’d stepped into someone else’s life and this wasn’t mine. Because I did not do things like this. I did not sleep with guys I didn’t know. I did not wake up in strange beds. I did not wake up and not remember what had happened the night before. Well, not since freshman year. Oh God, not since I got drunk at the Gamma house party my second week of school and woke up in Devon Miller’s room.
My eyes shot open. The stark white walls were bare, but I knew a dorm at Westland when I saw one. The single bed across the room was disheveled but empty. At least there wasn’t another witness to my shame. I oriented myself the best someone who was pinned down could. My internal GPS kicked in. The sun was breaking through so I was on the east side of the building. That meant the bed I was trapped in was on the north side of the wall. I mentally scanned the campus layout. Only one dorm faced that direction, Donaldson. My head drummed as the hangover settled in. Donaldson was also the jock dorm, and I was at Gamma house last night, which was the jock frat. Hot breath danced across my bare neck.
Please, God, don’t let it be him. Not again.
A deep rumble erupted from his chest, causing him to loosen his grip around my waist. I had to get out of here. Slowly, I shifted down to slide out from under his arm. He rolled onto his back, his hand smashing against my face in an indelicate caress. I slipped free and fell onto the chocolate rug on my bare knees.
Clothes, I needed clothes. I took stock of my attire, or lack thereof. At least I had something on, even if it was a red-and-black football jersey and too-big boxer shorts. There was nothing underneath. Bile surged up my throat, but I swallowed it back down. I had to find my clothes. Walking home in twenty-degree weather in January in somebody else’s stuff was not the way I wanted to start out the new semester. Tears threatened to fill my eyes, but I focused on the room. Anything to not think about the situation in which I found myself. Anything to not look at the other person in the bed.
I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want it to be him. Maybe if I found something to prove it wasn’t him. Maybe if there was something that shouted football player or basketball player. Anyone but the baseball player I prayed wasn’t in that bed. Even though he’s the last person I remember seeing…
The other side was an organized disaster, just like Paige’s. But that didn’t matter unless my clothes were in the mess, which I doubted. My hands shook as I pressed them into the floor. I turned my head to the left, where two desks faced each other. Each had a computer but the one on this side was a desktop. The desk itself was spotless with a calendar and a cup of pencils.
Don’t let it be him.
A Westland hoodie and sweatpants hung over the brown pleather chair. I pushed off the floor and stood, swaying from the rush to my head. There was a dresser to my right and the glorious door. The top of the dresser was as bare as the desk, but no sign of the clothes I had on last night. Yet my shoes were sitting beside the door. Turning around, I grabbed the hoodie and sweatpants, tugging them on as fast as I could without looking at the guy lying in the bed.
I had to get out of there. It was early morning, so there wouldn’t be many people out on campus. Plus it was Sunday. When I left, I might run into a handful of people heading toward one of the nearby churches, but for the most part the population would be sleeping. I had to run like hell before this guy woke up.
But I couldn’t not look. Suddenly, I had to know if I’d done it. I had to know if I’d made the same fucking mistake all over again.
The chocolate comforter stopped at his waist, revealing perfect muscle structure of the chest and abs. A patch of reddish-blond hair spread from his chest to below the comforter. I wished I could remember how it felt beneath my fingers. My shame deepened, adding in a mixture of pure self-loathing. My gaze settled on his chiseled face. Devon Miller was the last person in the world I wanted to be with. But I was in his room, in his clothes, and without mine.
Again.
How could I have let this happen?
I spun on my heels and headed out the door, letting it click quietly behind me. The hallway was thankfully empty and eerily quiet. Not wanting to make a sound, I tiptoed toward the exit. A door opened behind me and I picked up the pace until I almost hit the door at full speed.
The cold January air slapped me hard in the face, breaking free the tears I had tried not to shed. They froze against my cheeks as I rushed through campus toward my apartment two blocks away. Running in flats, even cute leopard-print ones, was never a good idea. I slid on a patch of ice, but that didn’t slow me down. It only intensified my need to get home.
My vision blurred, sobs filling my chest. I held back the worst of it until I made it to my building, an old riverfront mansion converted into eight studio apartments. I’d jumped at the chance to move in last summer. Dad didn’t want me to stay at Westland over the summer, but I opted to take my foreign language requirements instead of going back home.
After grabbing the hidden key from the turtle by the front stoop, I pushed open the heavy wooden door and ran up the stairs to number six. I jammed the key into the door and opened it like a serial killer was chasing me. Slamming the door, I pressed my forehead against it with my back to the small apartment.
Tears spilled down my cheeks. The radiator sputtered to life. It was only then I realized how freezing cold I was.
I’d promised myself. I’d sworn nothing like this would ever happen again. Despite the noise of the radiator, I heard the telltale creak of my bed behind me.
“Liv? What the hell happened?” Paige said as she came up behind me. Panic filled her voice, deepening it to a high tenor.
I turned around, trying to compose myself.
She grabbed me by the shoulders and held my gaze. “Who did this to you?”
I swallowed the sobs and answered honestly. “I did. I did it to myself.”
“What?” Her gaze darted over my face.
“You kept telling me to have fun, loosen up, get laid, get over Henry. That was the point, right? Of going to the party last night. So I did.” I sniffled and stared at the ceiling. “And I hate myself for it. I hate that I woke up in…someone else’s bed. I hate that I did something I can’t even remember.” I slid down the wall next to the door, unable to bear my own weight. Exhaustion weakened my aching muscles. My head rested against my knees. “I hate that I can’t undo any of it.”
“Oh, honey. I didn’t mean…” Paige slid down next to me. “I just wanted you to be happy. It’s been a year. Let him go.”
“I never wanted to do something so stupid again,” I shot back, raising my head just so I could glare at her. “Why’d you make me go to that party? That frat of all places. It’s my kryptonite.”
“You didn’t have to go. I wouldn’t have made you, despite the stupid bet.” Anger darkened her voice. “Yeah, I would’ve given you crap for welching, but I never wanted you to feel this way.”
“I’m sorry. I’m…I’m not blaming you.” I let my head fall against her shoulder. “I hate feeling like a fool. That’s the worst part, you know? I lost control.”
“And we both know how you love control, chica,” Paige said with a sigh. “But you’re single. Henry’s gone.”
Paige knew about my freshman tryst with Devon. She was there for me after I’d told Henry about it. She knew about Henry’s new fiancée and that he was going to be a father. She even knew that Dad hired Henry at his garage, managing the finances and the office work as Dad focused on expanding. But Paige would never understand.
Henry would never be out of my life.