9
Famous last words.
Candace woke with a throbbing headache. She sat up and groaned, gripping her head. The bright light that glared back at her through the blinds was enough to make her want to crawl under the covers and keep her eyes shut until the hangover passed.
So she did just that.
She burrowed under the sheets and her hand smacked something warm and hard. Her eyes shot open, but the lack of light made it difficult to make anything out. Her hand skirted along the warm object, which was skin. Definitely skin.
“What the—“ She scrambled out of the bed just as her stomach rolled. Without even looking to see who she had touched, she hobbled into the bathroom and heaved the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl.
A knock on the door frame had her looking up to find Brent staring back at her. His hair stuck out in all directions, but he still looked as if he had styled it that way. Sexy as fuck.
“Oh, God,” she mumbled. She flushed the toilet and laid down on the cool tile of the floor, curling into a ball the best she could.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying.”
“I feel like I’m dying.”
His footsteps grew quiet as he walked away from the bathroom, only for them to return a minute later. He squatted next to her head and tapped her shoulder. She glanced up at him to find a sports drink hovering in front of her face.
“Drink up. It’ll make you feel better.”
She sat up and took a long swallow of the drink.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He didn’t move, and after a moment, she glanced at him.
“Why are you in my room?” she asked.
“You’re in my room.”
She glanced around at the surroundings. The room was identical to hers, but with none of her belongings. His toothbrush sat on the vanity, along with a razor, toothpaste, mouthwash, and a comb.
“Why am I in your room?”
He smirked. “You wanted to snuggle.”
There was no way in hell he was telling the truth. Even drunk Candace wouldn’t want to snuggle with him. It didn’t matter that his chiseled chest looked incredible bare, or that his tanned legs made her want to climb him like a tree.
Fuck. Get it together, Candace.
He had been naked in the bed. She glanced down at herself. The only thing she was wearing was a T-shirt.HisT-shirt.
“Oh God,” she muttered. She stood up on wobbly legs and limped back into the bedroom, looking around for her clothes.They laid in a pile in the corner. She picked them up and immediately held them away from herself. They were covered in something. Something that smelled awful. She dropped them back to the floor.
“You threw up last night.” He still stood near the bathroom door, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “I rinsed them, but the smell wouldn’t come out.”
Her room was five doors down the hall. It wasn’t a significant distance to go in just his T-shirt, but there were a whole lot of people in the rooms between theirs who she didn’t want to see her making the walk of shame.
Her ankle boot sat nearby, and she leaned down to pick it up, but Brent got there before she could.
