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When I open my eyes, Jayden is staring at me.
He’s in my bed.
He’s not Avery.
“What the fuck?” I screech, backing away from him and into the wall. He laughs as he shakes his head. “What are you doing? Creep.”
“Shut up, assbutt. I made sure you didn’t choke on your vomit all night. I should get a thank-you since I took care of your ass instead of getting laid.”
I roll my eyes, sitting up. “You didn’t have to.”
He side-eyes me. “Yeah, ’cause you were a witness to the shitshow last night. Dude, what did you drink?”
I shrug, my head pounding. “Anything I could find.”
“Jesus, you were toast,” he says, shaking his head. “You were crying like a baby on the phone with Jude, spilling your guts like a fourteen-year-old girl with her sad collection of One Direction playing in the background. It was tragic.”
“Fuck you,” I murmur, dropping my head onto my pillow. Sucking in a deep breath, I can smell her. Damn it, I miss her. “You don’t know real pain.”
He laughs. “Yeah, not me.”
“Baylor never broke up with you!”
“Nope, it was all rainbows and unicorns with that chick.”
I don’t answer that because I know it wasn’t, but still. I’m hurting.
“Listen, this sucks, I get it. But instead of crying and pouting, do something about it.”
“I’ve tried,” I say, sitting up, but then I immediately lie back down when I get dizzy. “She doesn’t want to talk.”
“Make her talk.”
Giving him a dull look, I roll my eyes. “You’re dumb. Go away.”
“Nice talk,” he says, jumping off my bed and onto the trampoline before landing on the ground. He peeks at me through the rail on the bed. “It’s gonna be fine. You’ll work it out.”
“It doesn’t feel like that.”
“Because you actually love her, and that’s why I know it’s gonna work out. It’s obvious she loves you, so I’m not worried and you shouldn’t be either. Just take it one day at a time and tell her how you feel. Be honest.”
“I tried that, and it went to shit.”
He backs away. “Then sit here and wallow in your pity. I’m out. No more drinking. You’re grounded.”
I glare as he waves, going out the door and shutting it behind him. Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I check my texts. Nothing. Calls. Nothing either. No Facebook posts either. Radio silence.
Fuck.
Opening a text, I stare at it. I try to find the words to say to her, but nothing comes. Closing my eyes, I roll onto my back and I know I should wonder where Markus is or go to the bathroom or do something, but I can’t move. I won’t move until I figure out what to say.
I need to get her back.
Above me, I hear someone playing that ginger dude she likes, and I smile.
She likes music.
And I can sing.
