23. Rosy
TWENTY-THREE
ROSY
A shuffling noise, followed by a disgruntled, drawn-out moan, has my eyes popping open. Instant regret.
Clutching the ice pack to my forehead, I slide my legs off the sofa and sit up. Steph’s slowly making her way out of her room, squinting blearily.
“Are we too old to drink? Morning afters never used to feel like this,” she complains as she slumps down next to me.
“Whatever this is, I don’t want to do it again,” I mutter my agreement.
It’s not often I go out for drinks, or even drink generally, so whenever I do, it hits me hard each time. I’m sure we only had a few last night each, no way near enough to feel like I’m being trampled by a herd of elephants. Elephants in stilettos.
I’d woken up early because alcohol tends to make my insomnia worse. Initially, I’d tried to spend time with Moshi, but flicking the feathery toy back and forth had made me feel nauseous, so I’d crept in here for pain relief and something cool.
Handing the ice pack over to Steph, my eyes take a second too long to adjust. I need to leave for the farm soon, and the idea is making my body revolt. Moving, peopling, and going outside are not things I want to do today.
Is the world tilting? It feels like it is.
“Did you roofie me?” she asks, a slight whimper slipping out.
Thinking back, she did have a couple more shots than I did.
One of the bar staff had given us a slider of them, saying they’d been bought for us by someone.
Initially, I’d refused to have one because…
shots, and also it felt weird. But Steph had assured me we should drink them, since they were handed to us by someone who worked there and were free.
So I’d begrudgingly had one, and she’d downed the remaining three.
I think we’re both regretting it now.
“If I did, then I messed up and roofied myself. I’ve taken something for the headache; it should kick in soon.
Did you want some?” I ask, slowly sliding my butt to the edge of the sofa to push myself up, bracing for the onslaught of pain that will hit at the movement.
It digs into the sides of my head, but a little more muted now.
“Yes, please,” she whispers, eyes closed, the ice pack covering her forehead. Gingerly, I get her a glass of water, popping out a couple of the tablets and handing them over to her.
“Do you need anything else? I need to finish getting ready, as Max will be here soon.”
Having him see me like this is not what I had on the agenda today. I’m hoping the copious amounts of water I’ve drunk so far, and the pain relief, will make human-ing slightly more bearable.
Although now the hangover is ebbing, and I’m no longer brain fogged, the anxiety from yesterday's encounter with Bry is seeping back in. A lot of the conversation over drinks last night had been whether I should message Nate and confess or not. Steph’s argument was that nothing happened, so there’s nothing to confess…
but I’d wanted it to happen, which feels the same.
Because there’s still intention, so isn’t that the same?
She’d confiscated my phone in the end, and now it’s sitting there on the kitchen counter, taunting me. I’ve not seen it since she removed it from me, so I don’t even know if Bry told him anything.
There could be a message on there ending everything.
If I don’t look at it, then I can remain ignorant.
But what if something happened, and they needed me? What if not having my phone made something happen and now it’s all my fault?
Blowing out a long breath, I push my shoulders back and pick it up. Unlocking it, I see a couple of message notifications and click to open them before I can talk myself out of it.
Nate
Hope you’re having a good evening with Steph. Miss you. Message me when you’re home.
My shoulders ease slightly; he’s not breaking up with me. Until I see the next message, and some of the tension returns.
GymAlpha
Where was my message, little tease? Knocked to check. Steph answered, said you’d gone to bed. Make sure to hydrate. Sweet dreams.
Getting home is…fuzzy now that I think about it. I don’t recall much of the end of the evening. Turning, I go to ask Steph what she remembers, but she’s fallen asleep, her mouth lax as she snores faintly.
Knowing Nate needs me to check in, I drop him a quick response to assure him I’m okay, if a bit fragile, and check the other messages.
Noah
Heard you had a good night. I’ve given Maxi an electrolyte drink to bring for you. It should help if you're feeling any effects this morning.
Bry
Good morning, angel. Maxi has some sweet snacks for you, just letting you know so he doesn’t try to eat them all. There’s enough for you both; so make sure he shares.
An unfamiliar emotion I can’t place fills my throat. How are they all so nice and thoughtful? I’m so used to looking after myself, it’s hard to know what to do with their offerings of care and support. I’m also hesitant to get used to it too, as they won't all always be here.
One day I’ll be back to just having myself. That’s how life always works.
I pause at the last unread message, knowing that whatever it contains will have anxiety unfurling within me.
It doesn’t matter how many times I try to block the number, another one pops up.
It’s always the same person though. The messages all sound and feel the same.
My hands are stiff as I open the message.
Unknown
It looks like you had a good night last night, Pet.
Instant regret that I didn’t delete it unread overtakes me.
This…whatever this is, I don’t know what to do with it. I tried to report it to the police when the messages first started, but they completely dismissed me. Going back again, I can’t see them wanting to help me any further.
Spitting out the toothpaste, I wipe my mouth and tug back my hair into a ponytail. Out of sight, out of mind. It’s what I’ve been doing so far, so I’m sticking to that. Glancing at my face in the mirror, I huff out an exaggerated breath.
Minimal effort and a pasty complexion is going to have to be the look for today. I’m standing in the hallway, about to tug my socks on, when a rhythmic knock echoes from the front door. Despite my aching, exhausted body, I can’t help but smile knowing who’s on the other side of the door.
Pulling it open, I’m greeted by sunshine. It’s warm and does more for my headache than the ice did.
“Morning, Maxi.”
“Your pack pony has arrived. I come laden with snacks and offerings.” He bows mockingly, his tousled hair flopping forward, the curls swaying enticingly. They always look so soft.
I’ve never been one to be tempted by the “big red button”; if something says don’t do it, you bet I will follow that rule. But his hair is so very tempting. Maybe he needs to trip and fall into the hay, so I can get my fingers back in and tug out the pieces again.
“Just give me a second; I need to get my socks on, then I’m ready to go,” I reply, smiling widely at him.
He grabs the fluffy pink-and-red checkerboard socks from my hands, then drops to his knees in front of me. “Let me.”
Before I can protest, my bare foot is held in his far-too-warm hand. He slides the first sock on, then the other. Heat burns my cheeks, and my breath hitches in my throat. It feels incredibly intimate, and I fight to not squirm.
“Shoes in the car?” he asks, and I nod, a little stuck for words. I’d always thought it nice for someone to hold a door open for another, but putting on socks? Yes, please.
Mutely grabbing my bag and fleece, I pull the front door closed behind me and pad down the hallway after him.
Even though having Max here helping with all the chores is a lifesaver, there is still plenty to do that has me working up a sweat.
It’s good; it means I’ve at least sweated out the rest of the alcohol from my system.
The air’s also slightly warmer today, and so my skin feels like there is a permanent sheen of moisture coating it.
It’s either that, or the constant presence of someone so attractive carrying out manual labour is making me all hot and bothered.
Concentrating is difficult when he’s nearby, and I can’t help but be distracted, with my gaze constantly flicking in his direction.
God, maybe I need to squeeze in some time with my vibrator. Does it even work anymore? Where do we keep the batteries? Argh, do I need to stop off and pick some up?
That feels like a libido destroyer, the mundane chore of having to navigate a supermarket.
Maybe I should ask Nate; that would be earth-shatteringly better.
Bending down I pick up a discarded bucket, and a weird grunt sounds from behind me. I turn around and furrow my brows. Max stands there with a grin on his face, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“Is everything okay? Do you need any help? Or do you need a break?” I say, because I can’t figure out what his body language means. Does he look sheepish?
“No, no, everything's all good. I just got distracted by the view…” He trails off, his hand moving from his neck to wipe down his face and revealing a smirk behind it.
Is he…is that flirting?
He can’t be and must be laughing at something on me. I’ve wiped my hands down my leggings so many times, they’re probably covered in all sorts of muck, and he’s just mocking me.
“Ahh, okay. Um, well, if you need a break, just stop any time,” I stutter, a blush racing up my cheeks.
I spin around too quickly, and the bucket fumbles in my hand, dropping to the floor with a crash. Leaning down, I snatch it up, but as I straighten, a thick heat comes up behind me.
He’s standing so close I can almost feel him pressed against me.
My chest hitches as I feel a breath skate down my neck, and a spark of pleasure shoots down my spine. He’s invading my space and…I don’t hate it.
“Are you okay? You look a little flustered.” His voice drops, and his words caress across my neck as he leans closer. The breath in my lungs pauses, swirling around as I hold it.
My head tips to the side automatically, providing more access for…for him.