Tempted by Eden (Eden #1)

27. Cora

Chapter twenty-seven

Cora

T he dressing room feels as empty as I do, a hollow silence where there’s usually chatter and laughter. I trudge toward my locker, my body heavy, my mind heavier, replaying the night on a loop.

“Cora, are you okay?”

I whip around, startled, to see Hailee standing by her locker, gathering her things. I hadn’t even noticed her there—too caught up in my own head, drowning in everything I’m trying not to feel.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I mumble, though the words feel thick on my tongue. I’m not fine. I haven’t been since James walked out of that room, leaving me in a wrecked heap of emotions I haven’t been able to process. But I can’t unpack that here, not now.

Hailee frowns, watching me as I slowly get dressed. “What happened? I saw you got picked by Mr. Voyeur. God, he’s ah-mazing.” She fans herself dramatically, her eyes glazing over with some daydream about Daemon she’s clearly entertained before.

A small, bitter laugh slips out. “Yeah, amazing,” I echo. “He, uh… had to leave early.”

Hailee’s eyes snap back to me, her playful expression fading as she takes a closer look. “You sure you’re okay? You look a little down.”

Down? That doesn’t even scratch the surface. I’m gutted. But I don’t want to dump all of that on Hailee. She doesn’t need to know about my tangled mess with James or how my stupid pride always gets in the way of what I want, wrecking everything in the process. Every time I close my eyes, I see the hurt on his face. I hate it.

I force a smile, weak as it is. “Yeah, just tired, I guess.”

But even I don’t believe the lie.

Hailee eyes me for a long moment. Then, her face lights up. “You know what? You should come out with me tonight. I’m meeting some friends in the city. It might help take your mind off things.”

My first instinct is to say no. I’m an introvert at heart, and the idea of making small talk with strangers is my personal definition of hell. What I really want is to go home, curl up in bed with a cup of tea, and disappear into a book. But I know where that will lead—endless hours of replaying my night with James, obsessing over what I should have said, what I should have done differently.

Hailee jangles her car keys in front of me, her grin widening. “Come on! I’ll drive.”

I hesitate, then sigh. “Fine. Give me five minutes.”

“Yes!” Hailee claps her hands together, practically skipping toward the door. “I’ll wait for you in the foyer.”

Once she’s gone, I finish getting dressed, pulling on my summery dress and a pair of heels. My reflection in the mirror stares back at me, eyes shadowed with fatigue, but I force a smile. It doesn’t reach my eyes. I run a hand through my hair, smoothing it down, and make sure my makeup is intact. I look the part—put-together, confident—but inside, I’m anything but.

Fake it till you make it, right?

With a final glance in the mirror, I grab my purse and head out to meet Hailee, ready to let the night drown out everything I don’t want to feel.

***

The Pink Diamond is perched on the fortieth floor of a skyscraper in the heart of Sydney. As we weave our way through the crowd, the first thing that hits me is the view. From up here, the city glitters like a sea of lights, the Opera House and Harbour Bridge illuminated in the distance. The bar itself is sleek, with dark wood and floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s a three-piece jazz band in the corner, playing something smooth and soulful.

“Isn’t this place great?” Hailee shouts over the music, her eyes sparkling as she leads us toward a round table in the back where her friends are already seated.

I nod, though my mind feels detached from everything around me. The views are breathtaking, the music is good—but there’s a numbness settling over me.

As we reach the table, Hailee introduces me to the group. “Everyone, this is Cora.”

She rattles off names—Orlando, Harper, Liz, Brent, and Dave—but they blend together in a haze. I give a small, awkward wave and take a seat, hoping no one expects me to keep track of who’s who.

“Espresso martinis for the ladies,” Orlando— I think —says, handing Hailee and me a drink each when a waitress sets them down on the table.

I don’t hesitate. I down mine in one go, the strong mix of coffee and alcohol burning my throat. I shudder as it hits my stomach like a brick, but it’s exactly what I need. Hailee lifts a brow at me, clearly impressed, and I shrug with a small grin before signaling the waitress for another round.

“Damn,” Orlando chuckles, shaking his head. “Someone had a rough day.”

“You could say that,” I mumble, already feeling the alcohol numb my frayed nerves.

***

By the time I’m on my third martini, the buzz has fully set in. My head is light, my limbs loose, and for the first time all evening, thoughts of James have faded into the background. Hailee’s friends have welcomed me into their group, and the conversation flows easily. Between the drinks, the music, and the breathtaking view, I’ve managed to keep my mind off our disastrous encounter and the hurt I caused him.

But when a fourth martini lands in front of me, I hesitate. The room is starting to spin and my stomach clenches in protest. I take a sip, but the bitter taste makes me grimace. I’ve hit my limit.

I glance around the table. Hailee is deep in an animated story, her arms swinging wildly, nearly knocking over a few glasses. Her friends are laughing, clearly having a good time, but they’ve all sailed past their limit a couple of drinks ago.

I need to get out of here.

I push back from the table, my legs wobbling slightly as I stand. Just as I’m about to slip away, Hailee catches sight of me and jumps up, pulling me into a sloppy hug.

“You know I love you, riiight?” she slurs. “Are you feeling betterrr?”

I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, Hails. I’m good. But I’m heading off now.”

“Nooo, you can’t go yet!” She pouts dramatically, swaying on her feet. Then, as if she’s had an epiphany, her expression shifts. “Wait… I should go too. I’ll come with you.”

I chuckle at how quickly she changes her mind. “Alright. Let’s get out of here.”

After a quick round of goodbyes to her friends, we stumble out of the bar and into the cool night air. The crisp breeze should sober me up, but instead, it makes everything worse. My head spins, my stomach churns, and I feel hot—too hot. My body is burning up like I’ve been engulfed in flames. A wave of nausea rolls through me, and I groan, wishing I was already home and curled up in bed.

Why haven’t they invented teleporters yet? I mean come on, it’s the twenty-first century!

I fumble for my phone, ready to call us a rideshare, when Hailee stops me.

“Wait! I can’t leave my car here. Can you drive it back to my place? It’s just around the corner, pleeeaaase?” She clasps her hands together, giving me the best puppy-dog eyes I’ve ever seen. Even better than Leo’s.

I blink at her, trying to process her request through the alcohol fog. My stomach lurches, and I swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth, fighting the urge to be sick. The last thing I want to do is get behind the wheel of a car right now. But Hailee’s eyes are wide, pleading, and then she drops the kicker.

“I need it to take my sister to the doctor in the morning,” she adds, her voice small and desperate.

Shit.

I know what it’s like to have a family member who needs you. Taking a slow breath, I nod. “Okay, but it’s really just around the corner, right?”

“Yup! I swear,” she promises, wobbling on her heels.

I help her to the car, my stomach flipping with every step. Then I slide into the driver’s seat and grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white as I fight to keep the world from spinning. I close my eyes for a second, hoping that will help.

When I open them again, I start the ignition and carefully pull out onto the street. Soft snores fill the car and I glance over at Hailee. Of course she’s passed out. Her mouth is hanging open and a thread of saliva drips onto her shoulder.

I tap the “home” button on the car’s navigation system, relieved to see she wasn’t exaggerating—it’s only a few minutes away.

I keep my focus laser-sharp on the road, willing myself to make it without throwing up or passing out. But just as I start to relax, the shrill sound of a siren blares behind me.

Oh, no.

I glance in the rearview mirror and see the flashing lights of a police car. My heart drops to my feet.

Fuck.

I quickly signal and pull over to the side of the road, my hands shaking on the steering wheel. My head is pounding, and nausea twists my insides.

I wait… and wait.

I look in the rearview mirror again.

What the hell are they doing?

I’m sweating profusely as my body burns hotter than the sun. Sweat is dripping down my back and in between my boobs as my stomach twists in agony.

The officer finally approaches the car and I roll down my window. He leans down to peer inside, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Hailee slumped in the passenger seat. I can feel the bile rising, but I clench my teeth, willing it back down.

Not now. Please, not now.

“Ma’am,” he starts. But before he can say anything else, my body betrays me. I lean out of the window just in time to vomit—violently—over the officer’s shoes.

Oh. My. God.

He swears under his breath, and I want to disappear, to sink into the earth and never come back. But I can’t stop retching. When I’m finally done, I slump back in the seat, mortified, my head spinning. I’d give my left tit to be anywhere else right now. After a few seconds, I know I can’t delay the inevitable any longer, so I gradually open my eyes. The officer stares at me, his expression a mix of horror and concern.

“Ma’am, please step out of the vehicle.”