“Damn it, I told you not to drink,” he whispered.
“You didn’t want me to drink so you could bang Lola Tanter,” I muttered. Tears welled in my eyes. Some part of me, the mature part of me, knew I sounded like a child. Not that it stopped me. “You just wanted me to drive you home.”
“No, I didn’t want you do drink because I knew you couldn’t handle a hangover like I can.” He pulled me closer. “The booze isn’t good for your vocal chords either. We’ve still got a show tomorrow.”
The tears broke free and the blubbering followed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want him to...”
“Eddie wanted to get laid. You were drunk. That dickhead saw an opportunity and took it.” Dylan helped me to my feet. “You okay?”
I laughed. What a stupid question? No, I wasn’t okay. I needed a shower and aspirin. I needed more alcohol to erase this night from my memory.
“What’s so funny?” Dylan asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
“Nothing.”
Dylan didn’t push. We walked back toward the party, then past it to the car. Dylan didn’t say a word as he started the car and pulled onto the road. I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window. Why had I drank so much so fast? I knew better. Not that it excused Eddie from putting his nasty lips on me. What would’ve happened if Dylan hadn’t been there to stop him? I shuddered at the thought. Never would I have expected Eddie to be such a jerk. I tried pushing it all out of my mind. The lyrics to “Cry” by Reba McEntire filled the cab. I mouthed the words as the car rocked me.
Sometime during the drive, I fell asleep and woke up in a huge bed that wasn’t mine.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The walls weren’t mine. The blinds weren’t either. I blinked my eyes several times as if that would morph this room into the one I’d slept in since I was born. It didn’t work. I rolled off the bed, my feet getting stuck in the sheets and too soft duvet, and landed on the floor with a bang. My brain rattled in my head like a pinball machine. I closed my eyes, blocking out the sliver of sun slipping between the bottom of the blinds and the window.
Where am I?
The door opened and a pair of feet, very male feet, stopped just in my line of vision.
“About time?” he said as loudly as possible.
I squeezed my eyes tighter. “You don’t have to be so loud, Dylan.”
“Yes, I do.” He pushed my hair back. “Are you okay? You took a hard fall.”
I pointed down to my still tangled legs. Cool hands brushed against my skin as the duvet and sheets disappeared. I opened my eyes and watched him. He was gentle and soft and damn it. The night rushed back. Well, most of it. Part of it was too fuzzy. One horrible part that wasn’t was Eddie’s slobbering lips. Miranda was going to hate me for life. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t wanted Eddie to kiss me. She’d only see it for what she wanted it to be.
A sob escaped. I didn’t even feel the threat of crying before it started, then it wouldn’t stop. Oh my God, I never, ever would’ve done anything to hurt Miranda. I shouldn’t have had the alcohol either. And I wouldn’t have had any alcohol if it wasn’t for Dylan flirting with Lola.
My logic was sound. Anger soared and I kicked away from him.
“This is your fault, you know.” I crawled away and stood on shaky legs. “Every damn thing.”
Dylan knelt in the same spot with the mint green sheet still in his hand. “How do you figure that?”
I huffed. My stomach rolled. I bolted toward the bathroom on my left. Leaning over the sink, I caught my breath and managed not to throw up. Thank God. That would’ve been too much. No, that wasn’t true. This entire situation was too much.
Oh my God, Dad was probably freaking out.
I splashed water on my face and finger brushed my teeth with the toothpaste beside the faucet. My hair was a tangle of knots. There wasn’t a lot I could do with it other than smooth it down and pull it back in a ponytail with my ever present elastic holder on my wrist. Once I did that, I felt almost human. Just a human with an alien sized headache.
When I stepped back into the bedroom, Dylan sat on the freshly made bed. I swallowed hard. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Actually he wasn’t wearing much of anything except a pair of white mesh shorts. His hair was bed-messy and his usual swagger was gone.
“I need to get home. My parents are probably worried,” I said in a small voice.
“I took care of it.” He pointed to my phone on the nightstand. “Your dad knows where you’re at.”
“You told them I was here?”
“Yeah, I told him the truth. You had too much to drink celebrating your graduation and you didn’t want him to see you like... well, that. So you crashed here.” Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Good enough?”
Not even close. I just stared at him.
“You just going to look at me like I’ve grown two heads?” Dylan grabbed my phone and handed it to me. “See for yourself what I said.”
I took the phone and opened the messages. This is Cam’s friend Dylan. We celebrated too much last night. A friend drove us back to my place. He didn’t know where she lived. She’s safe and crashed on my couch.
It wasn’t too bad, but still. He could’ve lied and said I was at Iris’s. Or Miranda’s. God, Miranda. How could I have done that to her? As if she knew, my phone lit up with her smiling face. I didn’t want to answer, but I knew better than to put off the inevitable.
“Hey,” I said.
“Fuck you, Cami.” That was all
