In the back of the car, Tabitha all but climbs me like a tree. It's all well and good until I notice the Uber driver watching in the rearview mirror. From the reaction at Oppa, Tabitha is at least somewhat recognizable to the general public. Photos of her and me in compromising positions don't need to surface.
Plus, the bloke is invading our privacy.
I put my hands on her hips and gently push her back onto the seat. Seriously, I didn't know I possessed this kind of restraint. I kiss her gently on the temple. "You're enough to tempt a man's willpower, but I don't think you want an audience for this." I nod toward the front of the car.
Tabitha rolls her eyes. "It's so annoying, never feeling like you can step out of the house without someone watching. Someone judging. And I know I'm supposed to lie low because of Paisley. Like, this could be a disaster." She motions between us.
Great. She called me a disaster. If that's not a blow to the ego, I don't know what is.
"Then maybe we should part ways," I say curtly.
She swings her leg over again, firmly placing herself on my lap. In the dark of the car, it's hard to make out her features. "I don't want to part ways. At least not yet."
The car lurches to a stop and Tabitha looks up. She opens the door and sort of slides out. It's not a graceful move, and I don't know how she doesn't topple arse over teakettle. She rights herself and holds out her hand to me. "You coming?"
Hell, yes.
Chapter 7: Tabitha
My head pounds. The throbbing is so bad, and this is before I've even opened my eyes. I think a slow death would feel better.
I am never drinking again.
I didn't think I'd had a lot to drink, but on the other hand, I haven't been out much in the past few years. I try to mentally count how many beverages I may have consumed. It started off with those delicious melon champagne things at dinner.
Dinner.
Henderson.
Henderson.
Yup, there he is, right beside me, lying face down on the bed. With the daylight streaming through the sheer curtains, Henderson's hair looks much more dark blond than the auburn I'd thought last night. He's still, breathing deeply.
I glance down and see that I'm in my bra and underwear. Huh.
He's fully dressed. Double huh.
The light is too strong and I have to close my eyes again. In my alcohol-addled brain, I try to piece together the rest of the night. I remember dinner. I remember the cool bar and karaoke. I remember calling and not being able to talk to Paisley. Then, things start to get fuzzy. I think there was more singing. I know there was kissing.
Lots of kissing.
And … I don't know.
The last thing I really remember is being in the Uber.
Oh God. Please don't tell me I had another fling in a livery vehicle.
I was supposed to learn a lesson from the last time.
Of course, I've always been a slow learner.
Plus, who knows how clean those Ubers are? I shudder a little at the thought.
That slight movement sends a wave of nausea rippling through my body. There's a good chance I may vomit.
My former rock star self is so disappointed in this mellow, boring version of me who cannot handle a few cocktails and a few glasses of wine.
Okay, maybe more than a few, but still.
