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I hiccupped, tensing. Amos chuckled, low and sharpened with a razor’s edge. “Keep thinking.” I screwed my eyes shut as memories of me barfing all over his floors flashed right before the memories of the shower.
Oh, God, the shower.
I rolled suddenly, grabbing all the blankets and sheets to cocoon myself in a blanket fort of shame. I kept rolling until I would inevitably fall to the floor and hopefully die of a freak aneurysm from the impact.
Strong arms caught me before I tipped off the edge, and then Amos plopped me onto the middle of the bed. “You are so weird, you know that?”
“Yeah,” I said from the claustrophobic darkness of my nest.
He peeled back a few layers to unearth my face. “I just want you to know that you’ve given me a lifetime of blackmail. You’re basically my indentured servant, now.”
I wriggled angrily in my cocoon. “Screw you, Brady. You illegally detained me and tortured me with honey.”
“The audacity,” he intoned with shuttered lids.
I kicked at him. “Get out of my room.”
Amos gave another low, sensual chuckle, and then the bed dipped as he pushed himself off the mattress. “You’ve got a lot of nerve telling me what to do, peasant.”
I shimmied my body until my head poked out of the blankets, veiled by my unruly hair. “What are you even doing inmybed,DoctorBrady?”
“You puked on mine,” he replied, hands low on his hips.
“Oh.”
“Plus, you begged me to,” he grinned wickedly.
“I what?”
Amos grabbed a shirt from the foot of the bed, slipped it over his head, and gave me an irritatingly cheerful wave. “Don’t be late for breakfast.”
“Or what?” I shouted after him as he opened my cabin door. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes darkening. I swallowed hard.
Then he was gone, and the room suddenly felt huge and empty. I buried my head back in my sheets and screamed.
* * *
I found Maxine and Katherine folded limply over one of the mess hall tables, each of them with a cup of coffee in their hands and their eyes as sunken as mine. “Mess hall” was a bit of a misnomer if you asked me. The building, the largest on the property, had been built out of black metal trim and enormous panes of glass that gave the whole thing the feel of a fancy airplane hangar instead of a dining hall. The style could best be described as “luxury wilderness retreat with a hint of industrial farmhouse.”
I’d managed to get myself out of bed and had braided my hair, combing through the tangles with my fingers and trying to ignore the fact that I smelled like Dr. Brady’s shampoo.
I couldn’t remember anything past arriving at the shower stall. The world had spun on its axis like I’d done one too many loopty-loos on a roller coaster, and after that… nothing. Just nothing.
Maxine glanced up at me as I approached, her satin blond hair, for once, a tangled mess she had gathered in a low ponytail down her back. She still wore a designer athleticwear set she’d probably received in exchange for a few well-thought-out Instagram pictures, so she had one up on me at least. I had donned a pair of black leggings and because I’d been feelingspunkywhen I’d packed my bag, I had only packed crop tops and revealing tank tops. So, I wore a tan and brown ribbed crop top with a mushroom print smack between my boobs and a zipped up hoodie over it.
“Hey, Maxie,” I said, sliding onto the bench next to her.
She rolled a look up to me, her thin face stretched as she leaned heavily against the heel of her palm. “’Sup.”
Katherine rotated a stirring stick in her (most likely compostable) coffee cup. “I feel like death.”
“You look like death,” Maxine agreed.
Katherine glanced at me, and then as if snapping back to reality, sat up straight with a jerk. “Oh my God. Wait. Did you do it?”
I moaned, letting myself fall forward so I could cover my head with my arms. “I really love working with you guys, but I’m going to have to find a new job. Actually, I need to leave the country. I’ll get a fake passport and find a job as a fishmonger in Barbados.”
“The fuck is a fishmonger?” Maxine asked, scrunching one side of her nose.
