Viviana
“That’s my girl,” are the first words that come to mind before I open my eyes.
Cold, heavy limbs weigh me down, disobeying the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
A balloon is trapped beneath my skull, and the pressure continues to mount, slowly inflating and begging for release.
My mouth tastes like a tangerine peel left in the sun for too long.
My tongue is dry and heavy, in desperate need of rehydration.
The longer I’m awake, the numbness across my limbs slowly dissipates.
I feel the whisper of something against my bare skin.
Why am I naked? No, not naked, just half-naked.
The straps of my bra dig into my shoulders, and I can feel the chord of a waistband on my hips.
Peeling my eyes open, I squint against the morning sunlight slipping through open shades. What happened last night? Where am I? Did I—Holy shit.
The body beside me stirs, exhaling a soft hum as muscles stretch beneath sun-kissed skin beneath white sheets. His left hand reaches out, caressing the soft fabric. He squeezes his shoulder blades together and takes a deep breath before his eyes open to meet my stare.
I bolt up, lifting the sheet to cover myself, and soft, brown eyes stay locked on my every move. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” He pushes himself upright and leans against the headboard. Large hands run through his short brown hair, massaging his scalp.
I wish he was doing that to me.
No, Vee. You do not wish he was massaging you instead. But damn, I imagine that would feel so good against my skin, relieving some of the pressure settled beneath my cranium.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose, and try my best to do just that. “This is my room, Austin. Get the fuck out.”
“Actually, Sweetheart,” he says, clearing his throat. “It’s my room.”
“Shit,” I breathe. An image from last night—or maybe from a long time ago, I can’t be sure—floods my mind and sends a pulse straight to my core.
My legs squeeze together at the mere thought of him being inside me.
I push up from the bed, needing to get as far away from him as possible.
“This cannot be happening. I thought it was a fucking dream. I didn’t—I didn’t think we actually—” I can’t even complete the thought.
How could I be so stupid?
Austin’s eyes trail the length of my body, and I swear they turn from brown to black with each passing inch.
I’ve seen that look too many times to count, and when his gaze finally reaches mine, I know it’s taking everything in him not to pull me back into bed.
Austin’s tongue swipes across his lips, leaving behind a smirk.
“Glad to know you still dream about me, Vee.”
“This isn’t funny, Austin.”
“I wasn’t being funny.” He meets me at the foot of the bed, and his six-foot-one stature towers over my five-foot-three, but I stand my ground.
My arms are crossed tightly over my chest, bringing his attention briefly to my breasts, covered in a black lace bra.
He plants his hands on his hips, almost like he’s trying to restrain them from instinctively reaching out. “Vee, come back to bed.”
“Come back to bed?” I shake my head, disbelief laced in every word. “You’re unbelievable! Austin, this wasn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to keep our distance. This weekend isn’t about—”
“I know what this weekend is about, Viviana.”
“Then why are we here?” I ask.
We shouldn’t be here…we shouldn’t be together.
This weekend is supposed to be about Maddie and Drew and their wedding, slated to take place tomorrow afternoon.
It wasn’t supposed to be about us or how we left things eleven months ago or how we’ve avoided confronting the situation since.
And right now, I can’t differentiate between what was a dream and what is reality trapped behind a drunken haze.
I can’t remember the last time I got that drunk, but we are in Vegas, and what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?
When Maddie handed me the first shot of the night in the hallway outside her room, I had no choice but to snake my arm through hers and down the burning liquid.
After that, the drinks never stopped coming…
Without breaking his stare, I ask, “Why am I here? Please tell me we didn’t…do anything last night.”
“And if we did?” Austin asks, but I ignore his question.
If we did…then I’ll be back at square one, and I don’t want to start all over on the road of trying to forget him.
He scoffs, scrubbing a hand down his face to wipe away the remnants of sleep.
“You were drunk off your ass and someone had to make sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit. ”
“And that someone had to be you?”
“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Mads.” Austin chuckles. “She was in just as bad of shape, if not worse than you.”
That means the rest of the girls are feeling about as good as I am right now.
Great, that’s going to make today a real joyride.
What were we thinking? The five of us hadn’t been together in one place in the last five years, so I shouldn’t be surprised we rode a little too close to the sun.
Besides, it’s technically a bachelorette party…
We’re supposed to cut loose and have a little fun!
“Please tell me that we didn’t sleep together,” I beg, pushing the heels of my palms into my eyes. I hope to God that drunk-me was smart enough not to let something happen, or that the man standing before me was gentleman enough not to take advantage of the situation.
“What kind of man do you take me for?” Austin scoffs. “You know I’d never do that, Vee.”
“Then where are my clothes?” I motion down my body. I’d love to know why I’m dressed in only my bra and his sweatpants.
“Mads spilled her whole drink down your front.” He motions to a heap in the corner, where my hot-pink sequined shorts sparkle in the sunlight underneath the matching pink blazer and white tank top that’s not so white anymore.
A wave of nausea rolls through me, the acid clawing its way up my throat, but I force it back down. I have to get out of here. I need to get back to my room so I can get my shit together before brunch.
“C’mon, Vee,” Austin pleads, reaching out to me. “Come back to bed. I’ll get you some Tylenol and order room service. It’ll help you soak up what’s left in your system.”
“No.” The small word has a big bite. “Get out of my way, Austin,” I say, attempting to move past him, but he doesn’t budge.
“I’m serious, Vee,” he says. “Please, let me help.”
“I don’t want your help!” I grab the black T-shirt he’d been wearing last night and pull it over my head. When I gather up the pile in the corner, I get a strong whiff of tequila and fruit, making it hard to fight back the nausea. Thanks a lot, Mads.
Austin stands at the end of the hallway, blocking my only way out, unless…
I glance over my shoulder at the sliding door.
I could scale down the balcony. It’s only one story, I could make the jump…
No, Vee. We left those kinds of shenanigans back in college.
But it could be fun in a “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” way.
Yeah, kind of like that dream.
Fuck, I almost forgot about that.
I glance back at him, and he stands with his hands on his hips, feet planted on the carpet I’m sure has seen more action than me in the last eleven months. A small bout of disappointment forms in my stomach—a heavy weight that ripples through my entire system.
Waking up next to Austin Murray after having a dream about him professing his love and making love to me is what I imagine waking up from a head trip must be like.
The dream was obviously just a result of his actions the night before, dredging up feelings from the past. Feelings I shouldn’t be having.
Dream Viviana jumped at his confession, hearing the words I’d always wanted him to say.
The problem is that those five words will never come out of Austin Murray’s mouth, because Austin Murray doesn’t do feelings, and he certainly doesn’t do relationships.
“Would you please get out of my way?”
“Vee—”
“Look, I appreciate you looking out for me, but you should’ve just taken me back to my room. We haven’t spoken in months and—”
“Whose fault is that?”
I scoff. “I’m not having this fight, Austin.”
“You mean you don’t want to have this fight.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest, and I have to fight to keep my stare from moving to his bare skin. “You’re the one who ended things with me, Viviana, not the other way around.”
“Because you refuse to grow up. Now, get out of my way. I need to get ready. We can’t be late for brunch.”
Finally, he lets me shove past him, and only when I make it back to my room on the other side of the building do I allow myself to take a deep breath. It’s unstable, the exhale even worse, before a quiet sob falls past my lips.