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The second I emerge from backstage, Connor, Owen, and Lex surround me, and I’m showered with compliments for “dealing with the creep” and “saving the day” and a hundred other things I’m not sure I deserve credit for.
“Seriously,” Connor tells me. “You took the initiative and did what I was too chicken to do. I mean, that was pretty brave.”
“Brave … and a little foolish,” puts in Lex.
It doesn’t make a difference what my “heroic” and “responsible” act was, in the end. A drink finds my hand a second later, Owen and Lex are at my side by the stage, and the three of us (plus a few others who followed me here from the Polar Bear Bar, I’m guessing) perform our own little routine in front of the stage, dancing until we’re numb.
The rest of the night is a blur of shouting, thumping beats, and laughter—and a ringing, nagging, aching feeling that something vital is missing from all of this.
18
I open my eyes.
The very first thing I see is the discolored spot on my ceiling. And the very first thought I have is Skylar Haas and the lack of his body next to mine.
By the way, how did I get home?
I turn my head. A guy is snoring on the bed next to me—a guy I don’t know.
I sit up at once. The whole world rotates like a loop on a rollercoaster, and a crashing headache throws my hands to my head. “Fuck!” I cry out.
The dude stirs, then lifts his head. “Morning.”
“Jesus, hell, fuck! Please tell me we didn’t have sex last night.”
He scowls at me, remembering. “Ugh … nope.”
I lift an eyebrow at him. “Nope …?”
He pushes himself off the bed, rubs his curly head of hair, then gestures at me. “Do you see all your clothes still on? No. Clearly we didn’t fuck.” Then he mumbles, “Not that we could with all of your sad crying and blubbering …”
I squint at him, not following. “My … what?”
Apparently this guy is very annoyed with me. “I was in need of a little relief after my hard week at the dentist office. Do you remember that?” he adds as an aside. “The part about me being a dental hygienist?”
“Uh … no, sorry,” I choke out.
“Anyway, you never had the intention to do anything with me. All you did was cry about some guy from your frat days called Skylar you wanted back. I felt sorry for you and kept you company—for all the good it did. I had to console you like some kind of sad girlfriend.” He yawns. “Ugh, why do I always get stuck with the ex-obsessed weirdos?”
“He wasn’t my ex. He’s …” I peer up at the spot on the ceiling for some reason. A smile finds my face. He’s my cute little pinhole I can’t live without.
“Yeah, yeah,” he groans, “I’m about up to here with who this Skylar guy is. Sorry to be rude about it, but I need to get home and jerk off now. And to think, I could’ve gone home with that hot DJ guy Parish.” He inspects his phone after pulling it out of his pocket, then sighs. “I must’ve dozed off. It’s eight in the morning, if you care. We were barely asleep for three hours, it would seem. Wow, I’m full of beer. Where’s your bathroom?”
“Wait, wait, wait.” I feel like I’m still playing catch-up. “I was … crying … about Skylar? Like, actually crying? Tears?”
The guy—whose name I certainly don’t know—looks at me. Suddenly, the irritation drops off his face, and a look of sympathy takes over. “You are clearly crazy about this guy.”
“I am?”
“Yeah. Crazy with a serving of crazy on top. It’s kind of … sweet, actually.” He smiles faintly. “I can’t remember the last time a guy made me feel the way Skylar obviously makes you feel.”
I bite my lip, then slowly nod. “He’s definitely a great guy.”
“And unless this frat boy is a totally lost cause, it’d be my … a’hem … professional recommendation … to call him up and make this big love between you guys happen one way or another.” He chuckles to himself as he stuffs away his phone. “It isn’t often I’m encouraging men to satisfy their sweet tooth, but it’s also not often I end up in a bed with a guy I didn’t fuck … or even kiss or cuddle for that matter. Ugh, this weekend’s a bore.” With that, he goes to seek the bathroom himself, departing my room.
I stay on my bed, fully clothed, staring through my opened door. I spot Lex on the couch, snoring, with an empty pizza box resting on his chest. I’m guessing Connor is in his room, too. I don’t know if they encouraged any of my crazy behavior last night, or if they were looking out for me the whole time, ensuring I didn’t do anything I’d later regret.
