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Eli drags a hand through his hair as he stalks over toward the door and yanks it open. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Who’s up there with you, D?” one of the guys calls, and I hear a chorus of laughter. “I know you’re not alone.”
“Get the fuck out of here, you idiots,” Eli yells. “I’m coming down now.”
After more hooting and hollering, I hear the lower staircase door close, and Eli turns around.
“I better get back down there,” he tells me, bending over and grabbing his t-shirt from the floor. He yanks it over his head, then glances in my direction. “They’re waiting for me.”
“Okay,” I reply, my heart sinking.
Yeah, this is definitely awkward and uncomfortable now. It’s not like he’s invited me back down to hang out with him, so I don’t know what to think.
“So... I’ll let you get dressed, then,” he says, gesturing at my pile of clothes. “Take your time. I’ll lock this door. I know how to get in, but you don’t have to worry about some idiot stumbling up here.”
“Right,” I say, my voice tight.
Eli pauses a moment, then nods. “Okay. I’ll leave you to it, then. I better get going.”
He presses the lock on the door and closes it behind him. The moment I hear the bottom staircase door shut, I flop back down on the bed and stare at the ceiling for longer than I care to admit.
When I finally sit up, my head is spinning from both my overindulgence of alcohol and his awkward goodbye. I grab the bottle of beer and drain it, then swing my legs over the side of the bed.
Big mistake. I get dizzy as hell.
“Fuck,” I mutter, grabbing my head. I sit silently for a moment before slowly reaching for my clothes, then take my time getting dressed. When I’m finished, I walk over and open his little fridge.
Inside, I find a few beers and some of those little mini-alcohol bottles you get in hotels.
After pulling the bottles from the fridge, I line everything up on the floor in front of me. Then I pop open every single top before picking up one of the little bottles.
I won’t sit here and mentally berate myself for sleeping with Eli. And I won’t overanalyze how he seemed to emotionally distance himself from me right after we had sex, or how weird he acted before he went downstairs.
What Iwilldo is work my way through these bottles, because right now the last thing I want to do is think or feel. I want to be emotionally numb.
I’m pretty sure numb is better than whatever is in store for me tomorrow.
13
“Ummphh,” I mumble, rolling over onto my side. My tongue is stuck to the top of my mouth, and a brutal headache pounds away in perfect time to the beating of my heart.
Opening my eyes, I struggle to sit up and immediately clutch my head. Squinting against the sun streaming through the attic window, I swallow and glance around the room.
Eli’s room.
Apparently, I’d passed out on the floor last night after drinking every one of the liquor bottles from his little fridge.
Groaning, I grab my head as thoughts come at me fast and furious. Bits and pieces of memories from last night begin to form as I sink back against the bed.
I slept with Eli.
I remember doing it, and being very happily on board about it, but I can only remember bits and pieces of things that happened.
Jesus, I must have been way more drunk than I realized. I do remember being upset about him leaving afterward, and that it was super awkward.
My stomach roils, and my mouth begins to water as acid rises in my throat.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter, scrambling to my feet and bolting for the bathroom. I make it there just in time, then vomit everything up until I’m left with nothing but miserable dry heaves.
