Chapter 7
The sunlight entered through the cracks in the blinds, radiating a warm heat into Paisley's room. When she opened her eyes, the light was so bright she quickly pulled a pillow over her head.
“I’m never drinking again,” she moaned.
Silently, she prayed that she could hold back the bile as it moved up her throat. “Don’t do it, stomach. Please stay put.”
As she lay there, she tried to recall why she was in her bed, completely dressed, and smelling like a brewery. She remembered dinner with everyone, ordering several drinks, but after that she had no recollection.
Her mouth was as dry as the desert in midsummer. She licked her lips to moisten them. The minutes passed and Paisley attempted to roll herself out of bed slowly but found herself falling onto the floor. Making the best of her predicament, she moved on hands and knees to the bathroom.
Paisley didn’t bother to stand or turn on the bathroom light. She just undressed very slowly crawled into the tub. Rather than standing, she found herself sitting with her legs crossed and her head resting on the tops of her kneecaps as the water rained over her. Minutes passed before she found the strength to wash.
Little by little, Paisley started to feel somewhat human again. Her head still pounded, but at least she didn’t stink anymore. When the water finally ran cold, Paisley reached for the knob before turning off the water. Cautiously, she stepped from the tub, reaching for two towels. One she twisted around her head, and the other she wrapped around her body.
Her legs were wobbly as she made her way back to her room to dress. Black yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt were all she could muster the strength to put on. Fantasies of coffee and toast danced in her head as she stumbled down the hall to the kitchen.
When she reached the entrance to the living room, she stopped in her tracks, finding Braxton was lying bare-chested on her sofa, sound asleep.
She stood there for a moment taking in his rock-hard upper body, sculpted abs, and wow, morning wood. He was still dressed in his jeans but the hard outline of an impressive erection pressed against his jeans. She couldn’t bring herself to stop looking at it. Her mouth salivated at the thought of what he would look like completely undressed, his naked body ready for her to ravish.
Braxton’s eyes fluttered open. “Morning.” His voice was still groggy.
Paisley’s neck began to heat with embarrassment at getting caught gawking at him. “Morning, Brax.”
“You feel okay this morning?”
Paisley closed her eyes briefly, taking an assessment of how she was now feeling, ensuring she had all her senses before she spoke. “Considering I feel like shit and barely remember last night, I feel okay.” She closed her eyes once more, scanning her brain for anything that would give her a clue as to how the evening had ended or why he was on her sofa. But she still came up empty. “I think I need coffee. You want some?”
Braxton sat up on the sofa, tugging his shirt over his head. “You don’t remember last night?”
She shook her head and watched his face for his reaction. His eyes squinted briefly, sending shivers through her. Did he not believe her? Did he think she was lying? “I don’t recall anything past the first two drinks. Please tell me I didn’t make a fool of myself and dance on the table in the restaurant.”
Braxton laughed for a moment “No, nothing like that at all.”
Paisley breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I’m not sure I could survive if I had.”
She stepped into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder to Braxton as she poured water into the Keurig, “Coffee?”
Braxton had followed her but stopped beside the breakfast bar. “Nah, I have shit to do today. I should have been up and moving hours ago.”
She was still confused as to why Braxton was asleep on her sofa. “Why did you stay here last night?”
“Because you were drunker than shit. I had to hold your hair back twice as you puked everywhere, so I thought it best I stay and make sure you were going to be okay and didn’t need anything.”
Paisley winced at the thought of Braxton seeing her puke. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her sick in bed before. She recalled the time when she’d had the chicken pox, and her face was covered in red dots and her hair unwashed for days. He’d caught her peeking through her bedroom door when he’d come over to hang with Paxton. However, the thought of him watching her throw up bothered her.
“Thanks, Brax. Sorry you had to see me like that.”
Making his way into the kitchen, his hand squeezed her shoulder, letting her know that she had his support. “That’s what friends are for.”
His emphasis on the word friends didn’t get past her. She felt it odd that he would say the word with such intensity. Before she could ask him what he’d meant by his comment, Braxton was already out the front door.
Paisley’s stomach started growling around three in the afternoon, begging for real food. She had been so queasy all day that she had nothing more than broth and a couple of crackers. A quick assessment of her fridge indicated that she had only cold pizza. It would have to do.
Her head was still pounding, but she knew she needed to eat and keep hydrated. She reached for a bottle of water from the fridge, then twisted the cap off the Tylenol and downed a few pills before she tore two slices from the pizza
