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I groan. I really don’t have time to explain this now. “Yes. We can take a cab.”
We exit the club, and I immediately look for the nearest cab. Usually, they’re parked all along the streets at this time, waiting like hawks to collect their next profit. But at the moment, there’s nothing.
“You think we should take her to the hospital?” Lyndsey asks.
“I’ll call someone to come take a look at her.” I motion toward Aly. “Do you think you can manage for a minute?”
Lyndsey nods, and we roll Aly from my side to Lyndsey’s shoulder. Finding a cab takes a matter of seconds, and within the next minute, we are headed to my apartment home. Aly is now completely passed out, sitting between us, and shifting from my shoulder to Lyndsey’s.
We ride in silence.
Deafening, guilt-filled silence. I can just imagine what Aly’s roommate must be thinking, wondering how I might try to take advantage of this situation. She isn’t blaming me for this, is she? I was just the one who stepped in and stopped things from getting worse. If I were truly trying to get away with something, I wouldn’t have insisted Aly call her roommate to come with us.
Why am I even trying to convince myself I wasn’t in the wrong? I know I did the right thing. Why do I need convincing?
Because deep down, you know this is wrong. She’s your student.
I look down at Aly. The relaxed state of her features soothes me. At least she’s safe. That’s all that matters. It would be better if I knew just what Aly had shared with her friend. Though that doesn’t seem like information the woman glaring at me from over her friend’s head wants to share at the moment.
“What exactly did Aly say to you?” she asks finally.
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug. “I could tell she wasn’t in the right state of mind.”
I pause, holding back the remaining sentiments for as long as I can. But I sense the growing questions in Lyndsey’s mind, the thousands of unanswered questions swirling around in my head, as well. The only response I can think to add is, “I was worried.”
Silence. Again.
At this point, I’d rather take the scolding. Hell, I’d listen to her talk about anything at this moment, rather than let this silence drone on between us.
“You’re going about this all wrong, you know.”
Anything but that.
Chapter Eleven
Aly
This can’t be good.
None of this.
I mean, there is absolutely no scenario where I wake up in the morning in a strange room, wearing clothes that aren’t mine, and have no recollection of what happened the night before, that doesn’t end in sheer horror.
I’m either dead and finally made it to the cushy side of heaven. Which isn’t the worst side of the two possibilities. Because, if I’m honest with myself, these pillows and this mattress are certainly worth dying for.
Or I made some kind of mistake last night that involved me going home with a man.
I stare down at the clothes I’m wearing. Still in my underwear, but my bra and dress have been replaced by an oversized t-shirt. It looks like a man’s shirt, but the gentleman in question is nowhere to be found.
If I did sleep with someone last night, I don’t feel any different. No soreness, no flashes of memory that allude to what happened. It’s all just black.
Empty.
I stare around the room. A woman’s bra is draped over the side of a chair, along with a scrunched up dress. The emptiness in my chest expands.
Crap! Did I sleep with a woman, too? My first sexual encounter and I opt for a threesome? What the hell happened last night?
The rush of water captures my attention. Faintly, someone sings an unidentifiable tune. It’s coming from the room beside the bed. The bathroom, maybe? Someone is taking a shower. I move toward the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of at least one of the people I shared a bed with last night.
