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She speaks so loud that I almost recoil, but instead, I grit my teeth and rest my hands on the bar before her. “Riley.”
She frowns, clearly confused, when I elaborate, “My name is Riley, and don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
She shrugs. “If you won’t help me,Riley, then I’m sure I’ll find someone who will.”
She sways on her stool but steadies herself, and I roll my eyes, needing to resolve this quickly so I can return to work. “You have anyone to call. Your parents?”
Her eyes widen in panic. “Don’t call my parents! I don’t want anything to do with them right now.” She then slumps her shoulders, pouting her lips in a sulk.
I sigh again, curious as to why she doesn’t want to deal with her parents, but that's none of my business. So instead, I focus on the filth on her clothes, and I can't help but say, “You look like you’ve been rolling around in a dumpster.”
She scoffs, insulted until she thinks for a minute before admitting, “That’s because I may have fallen in one.” She sounds a little guilty, and I raise my brows, not expecting that and curious to know more.
“What?”
“I had a bad date, and I had to escape.”
“Which meant you had to jump into a dumpster?”
She rolls her eyes. “No, I had to climb out of a bathroom window,thenlanded in a dumpster. I was gonna go straight home, but I heard the music and couldn’t resist.”
I raise my brows, eyeing the drinks before her. “Then you had the drinks and it made it harder to resist?”
She smiles, extending a hand until she taps my nose with her finger. “Exactly!”
She swags again, almost falling off the stool, and I instantly reach out, holding her in place with my hands on her small shoulders, her skin warm beneath my touch.
Once she was steadied, I should’ve backed away. I won't do anything because I barely know this woman, and I don’t sleep with drunk chicks on principle. But I still don't let go, instead I hold her curious eyes with my own as I lean down and ask again, “Is there anyone I can call to come and pick you up?”
She blinks, breaking the connection that was briefly there until she waves her hand at me. “I’m fine. I can walk.” I finally let go of her and raise my brow, doubtful as she proves this by stumbling off of the stool, using the bar top to hold her up with a giggle.
I curse, making my way around the bar quickly, wondering why the fuck I care and knowing the answer as I make my way to her. She squeaks in surprise when she sees me, seconds before I lift her off of her feet and plop her back down on the stool. She giggles again, not listening or even looking at me.
I do not have time for this. I should just call an Uber, but instead, I cage her in, placing my arms on either side of her, gripping the bar behind her. I'm standing so close that she has no other choice but to look at me, and I have no other choice but to feel the warmth of her body and her sweet breath the scent of lavender mixed with alcohol and a little bit of banana, which could be from the dumpster.
Her giggle is silenced, and a heated and unguarded gaze meets mine as I practically growl, my patience wearing thin after the long night. “Hand me your phone, and I’ll call someone to come and get you.”
I hold out my hand for her phone and it takes her a second to reach back to her purse and pull it out. I take it and am met with a black screen.
Fuck, it’s dead. When I look back up at her, the warning bells quickly go off in my head. I watch her face turn an ugly shade of green seconds before she grabs my arm in a vice-like grip, bent at the waist, and in an exorcist fashion, she vomits all over the front of my shirt and jeans.
Well, this shit night just got even shittier.
CHAPTER 4
MIA
My head's being split in half with an axe, or at least that's how it feels right now. Oh gosh, what's that taste in my mouth? I turn my head and burrow my face further into my pillow, but wait …
This pillow smells different. It isn’t as fluffy as mine. I squeeze my eyes shut as I force my arms to move, pushing myself up a little to see the unfamiliar space around me.
I sit up, trying to ignore the spinning in my head as I process the high ceiling and exposed brick on each wall. A tall dresser stands against the wall to my left, with clothes spilling out of the drawers. Blinding light streams from my right, where two large windows take up the majority of the wall, the glass smeared and blurring my view of the outside, but that isn't what makes my breath stop in my chest.
I look down at myself, sitting in a strange king-sized bed with red and black plaid sheets, dressed in nothing but what looks like a man’sGuns N' Rosesshirt. I finger the material as my heart races, my mind searching for where I am and what happened last night.
I squint. The last thing I remember was…
“Hey, you’re up.” My stomach bottoms out when I turn to look at the doorway, where a freshly showered man stands dressed in a pair of blue jeans that hug his thighs nicely, and a light blue T-shirt that stretches around his biceps. His jaw is dusted with stubble as he looks at me, appearing unbothered. Generally, if I had slept with a guy like this, I wouldn’t be complaining, but the problem is that I don't remember it. When I say nothing, he speaks, “I didn’t know what you wanted, but I made you breakfast. Eggs.”
