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I’m scared to open my eyes. My head feels thick and fuzzy. And slowly, memories start to filter back to me.
Mom and Dad leaving the house, helping myself to a few glasses of wine from the cellar. Deciding that waiting for Nyx by the tree would be a good idea.
Father’s office. Expensive Scotch… that will explain the pounding. The game I thought would be a good way to get to know him.
I was going to kiss him… Why didn’t it happen? Did he stop me?
Nope… I slipped onto his lap, I’m sure I remember him catching me. I was definitely wrapped up in those strong arms at some point.
I slam my palm over my face, andgive up trying to remember any more.
School today is going to be horrific enough, everyone will still be talking about what Luke wrote on my locker, and now I’ll have to face Nyx too.
Another vague memory surfaces, and I struggle to recall if it was him telling me I was beautiful or me telling him.
Pulling my groggy ass out of bed, I walk lazily to the shower and look at the sorry state staring back at me in the mirror. I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes for Christ’s sake.
Firing out a quick text to Abby, I ask her to pick me up. I’m in no state to drive.
Nyx must think I’m a complete lightweight, I’d only shared a few sips of Father’s scotch with him before I turned into a blabbing rag doll. He had no idea that I’d drank nearly a whole bottle of overpriced wine to help me find the confidence to confront him before he got here last night.
I do my best to make myself look human again. At least the braids I had in all night gives my hair a curly bounce when I take them out.
“You look like shit,” Abby informs me as I lower myself into the passenger seat of her car. I don’t even bother to pull her up on her lack of tact, my head hurts too much. And she’s way beyond any help in that department anyway.
We arrive at school and I follow her along the corridor, waiting to see Luke’s cruel words again and all the sniggers that will no doubt follow. When I arrive at my locker, I see that the janitor has already scrubbed my locker clean and I breathe a huge sigh of relief.
I hear a few pathetic girly noises come from behind me and when my head turns around, I see Nyx heading towards his locker. The confidence in his stride is like he’s walking the runway. He’s wearing another tight white tee, and his denim jacket has its collar standing up and the sleeves rolled partway up his colorful forearms. I swear I almost melt into the ground when he slides his shades down the bridge of his nose and directs a wink at me. Like he wants to remind me that we share a secret.
If I’m remembering last night accurately, we share a few.
“Mornin’,” he nods as he passes, and my mouth moves to reply, but no sound comes out. Instead, I follow him shamelessly with my eyes, my mouth wide open as I watch him put his bag inside his locker and take out his books for Lit.Shit, we have that class first period. I turn back around and quickly scramble through my own locker, locating my books and ignoring the gob-smacked look on Abby’s face. I slap a kiss on her cheek and thank her for the ride before scurrying off to class.
Nyx is already at his desk when I walk through the door, slouched back lazily in his seat with his legs stretched open. My palms feel clammy, like my books are going to slide out of them, as I stand and stare at him for an uncomfortable amount of time before I eventually pluck up the courage to talk.
“Nyx, about last night. I’m…”
I’m interrupted by the sudden rush of bodies filling up the room. And it’s kind of a relief, I hadn’t figured what I was gonna say to him anyway.
I spend the entire lesson havingto resist the urge to turn my head to look at him. He looks dangerously handsome today, and I wonder if he’s done it on purpose. The flutter in my tummy whenever I give in and look over my shoulder, dances all the way to my panties. I guess it’s a distraction from the hangover.
Thankfully we have no more lessons together for the rest of the day, and I don’t see him during break. My last period is PE, and despite the fact my head has cleared I’m not feeling very focused. Nyx is kitted up in that tight vest again, his shorts short enough to show off all the muscles in his thick thighs.
“Ella Jackson.” Miss Mortimore’s stern voice interrupts me from watching him stretch. “Are you planning on throwing that Javelin?”
“Yes, Miss.” I tear my eyes away from him begrudgingly and launch myself into a ridiculous attempt at a throw.
I never have been very athletic.
After a few more attempts to redeem myself, without success, our session is finally over. The boys have already left the field for the locker rooms and I try not to lose myself to a vision of Nyx soaping up in the shower. I’m chatting to Abby as we walk back inside the girls locker room, and start searching the benches for my gym bag. It’s not where I left it. It was definitely on the bench when I went out onto the field, and no one else’s stuff seems to be missing.
Abby helps me look, and as the room slowly empties, so does any hope of finding my bag.
“You know who did this, don’t you?” Abby crosses her arms over her chest looking furious. “I’m telling you, Ella, he can’t keep getting away with it. Someone needs to teach him a lesson. What did you ever do to him anyway?”
I shrug my shoulders and sit on the bench while she changes into her regular clothes.
Abby’s right, Luke has to be behind this. Why can’t he cut me a break, what could he possibly get out of tormenting me?
