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‘Where’s your phone?’ Chase asks softly.
‘Indigan,’ I mumble.
‘What?’
‘Cardigan.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Ummm…’ I nod off, but Chase gently shakes my shoulder. ‘Ummm… Demi’s room.’
He disappears and returns a moment later, probably with my cardigan.
‘Can you stand?’
‘Don’t.’ I gasp and clutch the seat. ‘Don’t talk about walking right now.’
He sighs. ‘I can’t take you home like this.’
‘It’s okay. I’ll find my own way.’
‘You think I’d let you walk home by yourself?’ He scoffs. ‘I’ll text your parents and let them know you’ll be home tomorrow.’
‘Nooo. Can’t stay here… I don’t have any…’ God, why am I so tired? ‘I don’t have any makeup wipes or pyjamas. And I need to brush my teeth.’
‘You can borrow some of my pyjamas.’
I frown. ‘You brought pyjamas to a party? Why wouldn’t you just bring wine like a normal person?’
I tip my head back and laugh, but as I do, I slide to the side, off the toilet seat.
Chase catches me. ‘Jesus, Frankie. How did you get so drunk?’
‘Oh, y’know, all them pyjamas.’ I don’t know what I’m saying anymore, but I know I’m hilarious right now.
Chase wraps his arms around me and picks me up. ‘Come on. I’m taking you back to my place.’
Chapter Ten
I’m Trying
Iwake with a throbbing headache. I vaguely recall jolting awake several times and a bucket being placed before me for me to throw up in, but I don’t know who put it there. I just about feel okay enough to slowly sit up in bed…
This is not my bed.
This is not Archer’s bed.
Everything is grey and black and the ceiling rises high into beams and it’s so fucking bright in here. There’re windows everywhere, and fresh, crisp air seeps in.
I throw off the covers, and I’m relieved to see I’m still in my dress. I stumble to the nearest door, hoping it’s an en-suite bathroom, but it’s a wardrobe. A wardrobe full of button-down shirts, all neutral in colour.
My mouth goes dry as last night barrels into me.
This is Chase’s room.
Chase’s.
I want to die.
