Chapter 17
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Kayla
Oh. My. Gosh. My head’s pounding before I open my eyes. Just how drunk did I get last night? I haven’t been drunk in months. I groan and stretch my arms and legs. They meet resistance. Whoa. Something is holding me down. My eyes pop open, and I glance down. There’s an arm around my waist, and a body is spooning mine.
No. No. No. This is not happening. What did I do last night? Who did I do it with? Oh, gosh. I may throw up right here on the side of the bed. This is not good. This is my apartment and my bed. I came straight home after leaving my parents’ house. I can’t just slip out while he’s asleep. I would so do that if I could.
Slowly, I glance over my shoulder. Coty? Oh, no. No. No. No. This did not happen. Coty Michaels cannot be in my bed. He can’t have his body wrapped around mine.
“Coty!” I jump out of bed. Cold air hits my skin. I gasp and quickly cover my mouth with my hand. I’m naked. Completely naked. “Coty!” I scream again and jerk the comforter off the bed. I quickly wrap it around me.
“Huh?” His eyes pop open. “What’s wrong?” He sits up and jerks his head from side to side, looking for the danger.
“You’re in my bed!”
“Yeah.” He rubs his hands over his face and yawns.
“You can’t be in my bed.” I point to his bare chest. “You don’t have a shirt on.” I sink into the comforter. “Please, tell me you’re not naked, too.”
He lifts the sheet and looks up with his lips pressed together. He is. Oh no.
“No. No. No.” I pace near the foot of the bed. “Please tell me we didn’t. Please.”
“Sparky, calm down.” He holds up one hand.
I whirl around to face him. “Calm down? Calm down?” Oh, I may stab this fool. “You did not just tell me to calm down. We did. Didn’t we?”
“Uh, maybe?”
“Maybe? You don’t know?”
“Look.” He slides out of bed with the sheet around him. “Whatever happened, it can’t be that bad.”
My laughter turns to panicked breaths and tears. “Yes, it can. It is! We didn’t do this.” Oh, yes, we did. “How can you not remember? We couldn’t have been that drunk. Oh my gosh. Why?”
“Settle down, and we’ll figure this out.” He steps around the foot of the bed.
“No!” I hold one hand out. “Don’t come near me.” I point to the door. “Get out.”
“What? You can’t be serious.” His eyes narrow. Oh, yeah, buddy. We've got problems here.
I nod. “Oh, I’m dead serious. Get out!” I demand.
“You can’t just throw me out.” He has no right to be angry. “You don’t remember anything. So, why’s it all my fault?”
“I was drunk, Coty.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, you were. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? You’re sorry? A little late now. Don’t you think? Tell me you used protection.”
“I…” He looks around like he’s lost.
“No. No, you didn’t.” I suck in a deep breath. “Get out. Get out, now.” I can’t hold back the tears.
“Sparky, let’s talk about this.
“Get out!” I scream.
“Kayla.”
Nope. We’re not talking. “Get your clothes and get out now, or I’ll shoot you.”
“You wouldn’t. You don’t mean that. You’re just shocked and confused.”
Oh, I’m more than shocked and confused. I’m pissed.
“Oh, I most definitely mean it. Get out now, Coty.” I jerk the nightstand drawer and pull out my 22.
“Kayla?” At least now he sounds worried. Only took a gun to show him I’m serious.
I turn and aim the gun at him. “Leave. Now, or I’ll shoot.”
“Okay.” He scrambles around on the floor for his jeans and quickly slides them on. “I’m going. We’ll talk about this when you calm down.”
“Oh, I’m calm now.” I’m really not. “I want you out of my apartment.”
“I’m going.” He pulls his t-shirt over his head and snatches his cut from the bedpost. “Just don’t shoot me.”
I follow him to the living room with the gun still in my hand. I don’t have it pointed directly at him anymore. As upset as I am, I might accidentally pull the trigger.
He opens the door with his boots in one hand and turns around. “Kayla, please.”
“No.” I don’t let him finish. “This was wrong. We shouldn’t have.” I swipe the back of my hand under my nose. “Just go.”
“We really should talk.”
“No.” I raise the gun. I would never shoot him. He doesn’t know that, though. “Go, and don’t stalk me anymore.”
“Fine.” He steps backward out the door. “When you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me.” He turns, leaves the door wide open, and walks to his truck barefoot.
After I hear him drive out of the parking lot, I close the door and lock the deadbolt. I press my forehead against the door and let the tears fall. How did I have sex with him and not remember it? I’ve had a crush on him since I was thirteen. I’m my own worst enemy. Why did I freak out so badly?
Unable to stop crying, I go back to the bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed. My life is a mess. I’m the black sheep of my family. I’m a college dropout and will never get the job I always wanted. I’m emotionally broken. That’s my fault. The man I want, I just spent the night with him and threatened to shoot him for it. Maybe Harley McLeod isn’t the only one who needs therapy.
I put the gun back into the nightstand drawer. The safety was on. There was no way I would have shot Coty. He’s an idiot for wanting to talk to me with a gun pointed at him. Eventually, he’ll hate me, too, so it won’t matter. But what do I do now? Sitting here wrapped in my comforter and crying won’t solve anything.
The picture of Kira and me on my dresser mirror catches my eye. Kira. I can’t get anything right in my life. However, I can be there to support my friend. I don’t have to approve of her decision to support her. I jump from the bed and quickly shove some clothes into my travel bag. After a quick shower to wash away my latest mistake, I’ll drive to Knoxville a day early.
I pause in the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. Last night shouldn’t have happened. Still, it feels wrong to call it a mistake. For now, I need to put some actual distance between Coty and me. If I hurry, I’ll be able to get out of Willow Creek without him knowing.