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It’s been a long time since she called me that. After today, I had thought there was no hope for redemption. But maybe this trip away will be good for us. She can’t hide from me here. I won’t let her.
CASSANDRA
THE SOUND OF A shower running wakes me in a panic. Someone else is in my room. Who the hell did I bring home with me last night? I sit up in a rush, and the throbbing pain drills through my skull. Holy hell!
I shut my eyes tight, gripping my face in agony. Not again, Cassie! Why do I keep doing this to myself? I was past all this shit, I really was. Jasmine had helped me get to a better place, and the pills were helping me cope. But I stopped taking them a couple of weeks ago, sick of feeling so numb. At the time I thought it was the right decision, but now I’m not so sure. I may have replaced anti-depressants with drinking again when a certain someone decided to crash my life.
I stay completely still. The pounding slowly reduces to an uncomfortable thud, allowing me to remove my hand, and I crack open my eyes, trying to focus on my surroundings. Plain room lacking any sign of personality. That’s right; I’m in a hotel for the conference. The first thing I spot is a glass of water on the side table and grab it, chugging half the contents in one go. My mouth is so dry it feels like a desert in there. Next to the glass sits a small box of painkillers. Cute, whoever I brought home is at least thoughtful, an upgrade from the usual douchebags I find. I pop two of the pills and finish the water. I pray to whoever will listen they’re strong enough to do the job so I can get through the day.
The shower shuts off, and I know the awkward “Thanks for the hookup, but I’m hoping never to see you again” conversation is coming. I know I told Brandon yesterday that I fucked lots of guys to get him out of my system. I said it to get at him, but it wasn’t that far from the truth. After he dumped me, I tried everything I could to erase the memory of him and the way it felt when we were together. Random hookups became a constant, and alcohol was my other vice. I would drink until I couldn’t remember anything anymore. Problem solved. Pain gone. Till the next morning anyway, then I was in a whole new world of pain, but at least I wasn’t thinking about him.
The bathroom door opens, steam flooding out. And the body that follows nearly has my jaw hitting the floor. Wow! My eyes rise over the white-hotel-towel-clad lower half to the Adonis six-pack and muscular arms. This dude is built like an athlete. And covered in ink, just how I like. Cute smile with dimples and unshaven jaw. Then my eyes rise to meet his and my hungover brain finally catches up with the program. I want to shriek in horror.
“Fuck no,” I gasp a little too loudly. My heart beats faster and my head thumps along as it goes into overdrive. I didn’t sleep with Brandon, did I? I couldn’t have been that drunk. But really, I can’t remember much of the night after I arrived at the pub around the corner, on a mission to block out the stupid feelings that were swirling through my head from a day spent too close to him for comfort. So I guess I could have done anything? I wince at the thought and the pain.
“Morning, Shortcake. Pass me my clothes and I’ll be out of your hair.” He smirks as he says it. He can see how mortified I am, and he just stands there looking all wet and hot and smug, and I... I need to know what the fuck is going on. “On the chair behind you.” He points, still focused on getting his clothes.
I look at the chair, trying to get my body to work so I don’t look like I’m completely out of it. But I am. His clothes are hanging over the chair, so he took them off at some point. And the other side of the bed is messed like someone has slept in it.
He scratches his head. “You okay? You look lost.”
“What the hell happened here last night, Brandon?” I finally get some words to come out of my mouth.
“Oh, it was Quarterback last night. I thought we had become friends again.” He walks to gather his clothes, as I haven’t moved from the bed. I can feel I’m in just a bath robe, nothing else, and moving from under the bed sheets isn’t going to happen right now. I pull the gown tighter around myself, making sure I’m covered up. Don’t want to slip a nipple at a time like this.
He disappears into the bathroom and then returns moments later fully clothed. “Better not sit there all day, Shortcake, we have breakfast, then our first meeting at nine, and it’s already 8:15. The day is getting away from you.”
I groan. How can he be so chirpy this morning? It makes me hate him even more. I glance at the nightstand clock, seeing he’s right. Fuck my life. Today is going to be beyond long and torturous. Maybe I can just tell them I’m sick and hide in my room all day. I am sick. It wouldn’t be a lie, I try to convince myself, even though I know it’s not a possibility.
“Did you need a hand or something?” He’s not being a smartass anymore. He is genuinely concerned, looking me over like I’m incapable of taking care of myself. And my stomach sinks further. What the hell did he see last night? How bad was I?
My eyes narrow, and I glare at him. He doesn’t get to pity me. “I do not need any help from you, Brandon Lewis,” I say firmly, sitting up in the bed a little taller. “What I need is for you to get out of my room so I can get ready without an audience.”
He raises a brow. “Last night proved different.” What does that even mean? God, I wish I knew. I hate that he saw me so vulnerable and now has the upper hand because he remembers and I don’t.
“Well, that was last night,” I huff because I have no other words. And no clue what happened, but by the smug way he keeps looking at me, I’d say I did something I promised myself I would never do again and slept with him.
My stomach rumbles, letting me know it needs attention, something to soak up all the poison. On the inside I’m crying, cursing myself, making promises to never drink again. I know I have told myself that a million times before, but this time I mean it. Never again. But on the outside, I’m giving him my best icy stare.
“Okay, Shortcake. Guess I’ll see you at breakfast.” And with that, he finally gets the hint and leaves my room.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m showered, dressed, and made up as well as I’m going to be today. I quickly make my way to breakfast before I run out of time. After last night, I’m starving and in dire need of a caffeine hit. The painkillers have lessened the impact of the head pain luckily, because as soon as I walk into the dining room, Brandon’s eyes find me and he smirks. He pats the seat beside him, beckoning me to join him.
The hatred I have for him makes me want to find another spot to sit, but I’m dying to know before today goes any further what on earth happened between us last night. So, I gather myself a plate of food from the buffet and a much-needed coffee and slowly make my way toward him.
He eyes my plate. “Hungry.” He smirks, and I want to slap him more than I ever have. How dare he take advantage of me when I was out of it and then sit there smiling about it.
“Obviously,” I sass, taking a seat across from him. I dig into my scrambled eggs and sourdough toast before I have time to lose my appetite.
His food appears to be long gone, with nothing but an empty plate in front of him, but he sips on his coffee, watching me, apparently delighted by this situation. The eggs fill me up quickly, and I can feel the color returning to my face.
I glance over at him. In a way, sitting with him is all too familiar. He makes me feel like a spotlight is shining on me. Like the rest of the room has gone dark and I’m the only one he can see. I used to love it, his attention on me and me alone, but now I’m confused. It feels nice to have his eyes on me again, but I also don’t want his attention. I want to be as far away from him as possible, so I don’t have to deal with all the bullshit it brings up. The pain I feel in my heart when I look at him, the memories of everything we lost.
The amount of alcohol I consumed last night wasn’t like me. When I did it at the movie night, it wasn’t either. I have had all that reckless behavior under control for a while now. But I guess it was just me trying to cope with all the shit his presence brings up. “I need you to tell me what happened last night,” I ask as nicely as I can manage, not wanting to start another argument with him before I find out what I need to know.
He narrows his eyes, as if assessing me. “You really can’t remember?”
My teeth instinctively bite into my lip, the pain distracting me from the sudden urge to cry. I feel so stupid that I let myself get so drunk. “No,” I admit.
