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It’s real and natural and…
Fuck.
That’s why I bring the glass to my lips and drink half the contents. It’s sweet and goes down easily, and I’m surprisingly shocked. I’ve never been a liquor guy, not after that one time, indulging too much in college. Now, here I am, begging for that long-forgotten numbness to sweep through my blood, as I finish off the rest of the glass without any food in my belly.
Freedom laughs again, and whatever he says, she agrees. He walks away, a little too much pep in his step, glancing back over his shoulder once before rejoining his small group of friends. I hate him. I don’t know why, but I do. The fact he evoked laughter from Freedom so easily, so eagerly, leaves me feeling like a caged animal, ready to pummel my way to freedom.
Freedom.
My complete undoing.
I want to stay away, but I can’t.
She calls to me like a siren, drawing me in, most likely to my untimely death.
No, Samuel may not die, but the carefully constructed façade I erected around him will. It’s slowly crumbling, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Nothing I can do to go back. Nothing I can do but go to her.
She calls.
I answer.
***
The pounding.
So much pounding.
My head feels like it’s going to vibrate right off my neck, and knowing the way I feel, it’d be a welcome relief. I squint my eyes and glance at the clock, which reads ten thirty. The room is bathed in darkness, thanks to black-out curtains, and I’ve never been more grateful for decent window coverings before in my life. I also can’t believe I drank as much alcohol as I did. That’s completely out of character for me, especially when surrounded by my family.
The pounding starts once more, and I realize it’s the door. I stumble from bed, my legs tangled in the sheets and almost causing me to fall. It takes me a good five seconds to stand there, waiting for the waves of nausea to take over my body, but fortunately, it doesn’t happen. At least not yet.
Cool air-conditioning hits my body—I mean my whole body. Why in the hell did I go to bed naked last night? How did I even get to my room? Where the hell are my clothes? All good questions and yet, I have no answers. None. My mind is a big blank sheet of paper where last night was concerned. I remember the show and club we ended up at. My brother talked me into a shot—or was it two? Hell, if the way I’m feeling is any indication, I’d say it was way more than two.
I find a towel thrown on the floor over by the bathroom, so I wrap it around my waist and head toward the door. The pounding starts a third time, and I almost say screw it and go back to bed. But whoever is there is insistent as hell and probably won’t leave until I answer. Throwing the lock, I pull the heavy door open, the light from the hallway blinding me.
I hear a gasp and crack open my eyes, only to find my sister, Harper, standing in front of me. Her mouth is hanging open so far, it practically drags on the ground. “Hello,” I grumble running my hand over my forehead as my eyes finally adjust to the onslaught of light.
She takes in my appearance at the door, probably just as shocked to see me in a towel as I am to be answering the door wearing one. “What are you doing?” she whispers, her eyes bouncing from my bare chest to my eyes.
“Sleeping. It’s what people do in a hotel room,” I tell her, already wishing I were back in bed, back in the darkness.
“Why are you here?”
That gives me pause. I know I drank a lot last night, but why the hell is my sister surprised to find me in my room? “Why are you here?”
She seems to glance around, checking the number on the door and looking back my way. There’s no hiding her confusion. “Did you sleep here last night?”
“Yes,” I grumble. Why the hell is she asking stupid questions.
“Naked?”
I pull my towel tighter around my waist. “Apparently.”
“Samuel,” she starts, then stops.
“What, Harper? Why are you at my room?” I ask, hating that I’m being a tad rude to my sister on her wedding day, yet really just wishing for another hour or two of uninterrupted sleep before all of this wedding whoopla begins.
I expect her to be a little snippy by my impoliteness, but what I wasn’t expecting was her response. A response that changes the entire course of my life. A response that rocks me clear down to the core.
“This isn’t your room. It’s Free’s.”
