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No, it had taken only one round with Zach Warner to have me reaching for the very vice I'd so hated when I'd been a kid. My mother and the string of boyfriends she'd kept had made alcohol a regular part of our lives, but it hadn't been until after moving in with Bennett and Xander that I'd realized what role booze had really played during my childhood.
"Never again," I tried to say to myself, but my mouth was too full of cotton. My pounding head and rolling stomach made me sink further into the warmth of my bed instead of seeking out a much-needed glass of water. I reached a hand out to my nightstand to see if I could get to my phone so I could beg Min via text to bring me some water. It would be well worth the lecture she'd force on me. While Min was all for enjoying some imbibing, she was like a mom on steroids when it came to me drinking too much.
Probably because she knew how much I’d hate myself for it afterwards.
I slapped my hand around on the nightstand but there was no phone. I rolled over to check the other nightstand on the opposite side but encountered dead air instead.
What the hell?
Had I moved my nightstand in the middle of the night? Jesus, how drunk had I been?
I tried to remember the events of the night before. There'd been the drinks with the weird name that I'd downed like candy and there'd been a guy who hadn't had any issue with putting his arms around me on the dance floor but hadn't smelled like the woods. He hadn't been all growly and demanding either. He’d been exactly what I'd been looking for—a casual fling with a guy who wanted me.
I found myself reaching to touch my lips and wondered if I'd finally given up on my kissing moratorium. I tried to close my eyes even more as if that would somehow miraculously bring back all the memories, but there were only bits and pieces. And the only thing I could remember about my lips was touching them against hot, coiled ropes of muscle as I inhaled the sweet scent of…
"Woods," I somehow scratched out.
Oh god.
No, no, no, I silently repeated to myself.
I like you just fine.
"Asshole," I whispered to myself. He liked me just fine. Just fine. What a dick. Okay, yeah, I'd stupidly bared part of my soul to him, again, but why couldn’t he just have kept his mouth shut? Or even just told me the truth? Just fine? Who the fuck said shit like that?
"Here," I heard a rough voice say.
No.
Fucking.
Way.
No, it just wasn't possible. It just wasn't. My luck absolutely, positively, could not be this bad. It just couldn't. My name was Lucky, for Christ's sake. That had to count for something.
But the sound of a water bottle being shaken near my ear said otherwise.
"You're not here," I murmured. "You. Are. Not. Here."
"Drink this or you'll get dehydrated. There's aspirin on the nightstand. The one to your right. The only one."
I thrust out my hand because I knew I was screwed no matter what I did. Maybe I'd actually get lucky and drown while drinking it. The plastic of the bottle felt cold against my skin but my embarrassment was making my blood run hot.
"The cap is already off," Zach said softly.
I wanted to smack him for that. So he could be considerate enough to take the cap off the fucking water bottle, but he couldn't come up with a line that was a little less condescending than I like you just fine?
I managed to hold my tongue as I swallowed down a few tugs of water. Once my mouth felt relatively normal, I could taste the sourness of vomit. I groaned when I realized that meant the image of me throwing up next to Zach's truck wasn't just my rampant imagination.
"What's wrong?" Zach asked. I still hadn't opened my eyes but when the bed dipped and a warm, firm palm was pressed against my forehead, I actually jumped.
My eyes popped open and were greeted with the sight of Zach frowning at me. "Nothing," I ground out. "Everything's perfect. Just fucking perfect." I took another sip of water and then glanced around the room. It was clear that it was a motel room. Not particularly cheap looking, but not extravagant either. It was just… blah. There was a green canvas duffel bag sitting on a chair, but that was all I saw. There were no clothes lying about, no personal items like a cell phone or tablet, and no clutter to show that the room had even been occupied.
"Guess I really am a cheap date," I joked, though nothing about the situation felt funny.
Zach, who was dressed in a pair of jeans and a snug black T-shirt that hugged his body perfectly, followed my gaze. "I like to keep things simple," was all he said.
