4. SECOND MISTAKE
PANDORA
A really freaking hot guy lies next to me on the unfamiliar bed. He’s relaxed in sleep with an arm covering his eyes. From beneath an elbow, a straight nose peaks out, and a full mouth ticks with some dream he’s braving.
This boy—this… man—is naked, all the way naked, and I look away as my heart speeds up.
What have I done?
Please, boy, please don’t wake up.
Ah, shit. I was euphoric last night. Now though, with a roaring hangover playing my nerves like a freaking banjo, I’m having all sorts of second thoughts. First night in a new town and I’m already proving how I can’t live without parental supervision.
The panic rises in me with the echo of Dad’s voice in my head. This is exactly what should not be happening! I want my parents to trust me, to understand that I’m done endangering my future by being irresponsible. I won’t mess up just because they set me free from their Rapunzel tower.
I remember absolutely squat since I got up to dance on the bar counter last night.
Or do I?
Snippets here and there: Me telling him how sexy he is. Him insisting on dropping me off at my apartment to sleep the booze off. Me demanding he take me home instead and begging him to…
Shoot me in the face.
My anxiety is blooming, but my need to throw up has more to do with the hangover, I think. Cringing, I peek at Mr. Sleeping Beauty through the curtain of my hair. He isn’t stirring. I let my gaze trail over his body. Small, dark nipples. Rows of relaxed muscle.
I wish I at least remembered his name.
The few golden hairs on his chest look so soft, my fingers twitch to touch them. All of him is golden, and I—
Don’t know him.
He sighs in his sleep, and I allow my eyes to work their way down his stomach. Dude’s got a full-on six-pack. A swift flashback from last night makes me flush. I groped him. I totally did. Shit!
Stop ogling him.
The craziest, most perfect transition between naked abs and golden happy-trail leads me down. I shouldn’t stare, but it’s morning, early morning, and he’s—
I see him. Him! And I smell us. We—
Stop it.
If only my head weren’t imploding. Crème de menthe. Why? WHY! Then again, I know why. Or more like who: Mica.
My phone lies on the nightstand next to him. Did I really escape through the ladies’ room window of that club? Yes, I did. Without telling my friends where I went. And I dragged this boy with me.
He’s not the only one naked. I sit up, cover my breasts as I lean over him. I’m so careful, so quiet when I reach for my phone on the nightstand.
Please, pretty-boy, keep sleeping.
I’m all nerves, I am, and I don’t want to flip. Right now, those pills Shannon teases me with would be good.
I try not to brush against him. As my fingers reach the device, warm arms lace around me, and my heart bounces into my throat. From a logical standpoint, I shouldn’t be jumpy; even if I don’t recall us together, we’ve obviously been in this bed for a while. Intimate. We’ve—
“What’s up?” He’s hoarse. I remember his voice now, and it wasn’t gruff before. This must be his morning voice.
A squealy reply slinks out between my teeth. “Nothing!”
“No?” he asks, and the hum he emits strikes me low in my stomach. He holds me, and I still can’t recall his name—it’s driving me crazy. I’ve never had a one-night stand in my life.
I’ve sunk low. I think of Jacob, the boyfriend I had for years. He was the son of the preacher-man at my parents’ church. We bonded because of our strict upbringings. Mom and Dad never suspected someone as well raised as Jacob could corrupt their little princess.
Besides the times I snuck out to hang with Mica and the girls, exploring Jacob’s body was my biggest entertainment. When I left for Deepsilver, we simply hugged goodbye real quick. That’s how deep our feelings ran.
This man I just met rakes his fingers into my hair and guides my mouth to him. He’s got me on top of him, and I recognize the sensation, how I’ve been here before. My body reacts, already responding to him without my consent.
He groans and spreads my legs over him so his hardness connects with my core.
“I gotta call my friend,” I mumble as he kisses me.
“You texted Mica.”
“I did?” I roll off him and hold my phone up to read.
Crazy chicky. Destiny’s so mad.
I grimace at Mica’s reply before scrolling up and reading my barely understandable message to her. Note to self: don’t drink and text.
He’s staring at me, so I shoot him a wary glance. “What?”
“You remember who you called, babe?”
Babe. Not sure I want him to call me that… even though we slept together… Crap! This is so messed up. I want to take off. How do I leave and never look back? How? In my mind, I rummage for solutions from TV shows and movies, because I have no real-life point of reference.
“Who did I call?” I ask.
“Your mom.”
Oh. Fuck. Me.
Last night hits me full force. In one giant flash, I remember every stupid detail. I get up and wrap the sheet around me hastily. As I stand, I’m hit with a wave of nausea. Stumbling, I make my way to what I think is the bathroom, only it’s his walk-in closet. Ah!
“Are you okay?”
The guy has wood—not carpet—in his bedroom. I swallow compulsively, trying not to vomit all over the elegant mahogany floorboards.
My mom. Damn!
“Bathroom!” I plead, my voice coming out strangled.
“You’re sick.” He links an arm around my waist and pulls me through another door where the porcelain throne beckons for me to hurl my guts out.
And I do. The sheet sinks from me while I’m busy delivering green goop. I shudder at the aftertaste in my mouth, and I wish he’d back the hell off. I can’t tell him, because I’m too. Freaking. Sick.
Sure, I deserve total purgatory, and I hurt like the loser I am right now.
“Shhh,” he soothes from behind me. He pulls up the sheet, covering my boobs again, and I’m grateful in the midst of my raging hangover.
“I hate this,” I sob because I’m pitiful and a child.
“Yeah, it sucks, babe.”
“I called my mother, huh?”
“You did. She wasn’t too happy.”
I projectile-vomit.
“What’s your name? Sorry,” I add, but he’s not offended.
“I’m Dominic.”
Ah yes, and Dominic is no high school kid. This guy can handle a girl. I remember that too.
Us in the hallway. The way his eyes burned with desire last night. How he showed me me in the mirror. Despite how sick I am, my cheeks heat with an embarrassment I didn’t experience while I was drunk.
Finally, I decide that short, sweet, and to the point is the best way. Carefully, I shove myself up from the floor. I brush my hair away and meet his gorgeous, hazel eyes. “Thanks for everything, Dominic, and sorry about all of this. I need to go home now.”