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He visibly swallows. "Okay."
"I don't even know how it happened. I just woke up this morning, and she was in my bed," I ramble, my nerves bouncing off every word.
"Who?" He breathes, fear clear in his brown eyes.
Silence envelopes the kitchen as we sit across from each other, neither of us speaking. Neither of us knows what to say. My head is quickly thrown back again.
"Gracie," I say at last, keeping my eyes trained on the ceiling above me.
"Gracie," he echoes, as if he is testing the name on his tongue, like he can't believe he's saying it. "Gracie Hutton?"
See, Adam has a great poker face. It's usually hard to tell what he's really feeling—especially during important moments. Not now though. With his jaw slacked, lips parted with surprise, I know exactly what he's thinking. He's thinking I'm a dead man. And he’s right.
"Yes, Gracie Hutton, you dumbass," I snap unintentionally. Regret rises up inside of me, making it hard for me to swallow back the apology on my tongue. He knows I don't mean it.
"I'm not the dumbass here. What the hell happened? I didn't know that you were into her. Are you?"
“No.” I don’t miss a beat. I'm not interested in her. I never have been, and I never will be. It was a moment of weakness that we both took advantage of. End of story.
“Then explain what happened because I’m lost,” he says, his arms crossed against his chest.
"I have no fucking clue. I was smashed way before I saw her at the club and she was just as fucked up as I was. I don't even know how we got back to my place."
"What happened this morning? You said you woke up with her in your bed," he mumbles, his eyes shut, massaging his temples.
"I woke up, and she was sprawled out beside me wearing nothing but my shirt from last night. I freaked out and got dressed. That's when I called you."
His chuckle surprises me as he leans back against his chair. "You just left her there alone? Douche move."
I'm up before he finishes his sentence, my body moving to his liquor cabinet. I pull out the closest bottle I can find and take a large swig of the amber liquid. It burns the entire way down my throat before it settles in my empty stomach. I’ll be paying for that later.
"Yeah, I know. But it freaked me out. Oakley will actually gut me if he finds out." I set the bottle on the table and sit back down.
"Not only Oakley. You know Gracie will tell Ava, right? They're like best friends now," he says matter-of-factly.
"I'm screwed." My head drops, banging on the table. "It was nice knowing you."
Adam rolls his eyes, ignoring my pity party. "Maybe you should talk to Gracie. You know, last night probably meant a lot to her."
More guilt washes over me at that statement, and I curse myself again for leaving her this morning. Fuck, she's going to kill me the next time she sees me.
"I don't know what to say. I left her alone in my bed like a total asshole."
"Well, are you into her? Or was last night a mistake? Was it like last time?"
My head snaps up at that. It has to have been a mistake. I don't even remember it. This wasn't like Mexico all over again, right?
"I don't know." The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. I shake my head. I am angry at myself for even debating the question.
"I think that's where you need to start. For now, I need you to take Easton for a walk while I hit the gym." He smiles smugly at me while he stands up and brings his cup to the sink. Snorting, I follow his lead and return the bottle of scotch to its home in the small cabinet.
"Fine. But only because I like Easton more than I like you."
"Yeah, okay. Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy." He chuckles, heading out of the kitchen. I stare at the dog sitting patiently beside the back door, his wide eyes on me.
"You heard the W-word, didn't you?" I breathe out a laugh and grab his leash from the hook by the door and clip it to his collar.
At least Easton doesn't care about who I sleep with. He's too busy licking his balls and sleeping all damn day.
