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His call had hit me out of left field. Timothy never called me. Not unless it was bad news.
I hadn’t called back.
I couldn’t.
I didn’t want to hear his voice. To give him an opportunity to remind me what an utter disappointment I was to him and the family.
Fuck him.
But I’d made the fatal error of listening to his voicemail. Just hearing his arrogant aloof voice demanding I call him sent my mood tumbling into the depths of hell that not even vodka on tap could cure.
The house was steeped in darkness when I reached the door. Digging my keys out of my pocket, I fumbled with the lock. “Stupid fucking thing.”
I contemplated hammering on the door to get someone’s attention, but it was late. Everyone would be sleeping now. If Connor and Austin had even made it back. Connor was most likely at El’s, while Austin was probably balls deep inside some puck bunny somewhere on campus. And Aurora—
I couldn’t even think about Aurora without wanting to slap myself in the face.
I’d treated her like absolute shit, bailing on our date and kicking her out of the truck onto the street like she was nothing more than dirt on my shoe.
Not my finest moment.
But the call had thrown me for a loop. And hearing his voice again had dredged up some serious bad fucking memories.
I didn’t want her to see me like that—angry and bitter. Not when I’d worked so fucking hard to bury that guy.
One voicemail from him, though, and the veneer shattered.
Fuck.
I finally got the door open and staggered inside, kicking off my sneakers and locking up behind me. I needed to soak up some of the liquor stat. But I didn’t trust my stomach could handle food, so I opted to chug two glasses of water instead to try and flush out the toxins.
Giving myself a few minutes to try and sober up, I headed upstairs. But the second my feet hit the first floor, my eyes went to the stairs leading to Aurora’s room.
I needed to apologize, to explain that running out earlier had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me and my fucked-up past.
Sober Noah knew it was a bad idea going up there. I was so fucking drunk, and she was probably sleeping. But I couldn’t go to bed without seeing her.
I couldn’t.
Grabbing the rail, I hauled myself up the second staircase. I sounded like a baby fucking elephant, but the room was spinning again, making it really difficult to see.
“What’s going on—Noah.”
She stood there like a vision. Hair scraped off her face in a messy bun, an oversized t-shirt hiding her sexy-as-fuck curves, and not an ounce of makeup on her face.
She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed, and she’d never looked more beautiful.
“Really?” Her brow arched with irritation.
“What?”
“You just said I looked beautiful.”
“I did?”
Huh.
“Are you drunk?”
