Chapter Three
Oakley
I t’s so bright that it feels like the Sun is in the same room with me. My eyeballs burn every time I crack them open just a little bit. Despite what everyone says about getting shitfaced, a lot of last night I unfortunately remember. Embarrassingly so.
I groan at the memory of how stupid I was and roll over to grab my phone to text Terry.
I should apologize right away, but my hand fails to connect with my phone.
When I open my eyes wider, fear is the first thing that rushes through me, not nausea.
I am not in my room, and this is not Terry’s room either - God knows, I’ve spent enough time in her room to recognize it almost better than my own.
I’m in neither!
Maybe…I don’t remember last night as well as I thought I did.
Maybe they were right all along! Things get worse when I look under the covers and realize I’m completely naked.
I’ve never slept naked before in my life.
I sit up -too quickly- and the room spins for a stomach-turning moment.
I look over the side of the bed only to come up as empty as I did when I reached for my phone.
First one side, then the other. Nothing.
Where are my clothes? Where is my phone? Where am I?
I check in with my body and realize, despite a headache, I don’t feel awful. I’m not sore anywhere I’m not supposed to be, and I don’t feel achy. If I had done anything, I would have known about it this morning. I would have totally felt it. There is no way I wouldn’t. Right?
There’s banging somewhere in the distance.
It sounds like…pots and pans being used or…
thrown. I absentmindedly rub the middle of my forehead, which is where the ache has gotten stronger since I sat up.
Maybe if I can just take a quick peek, I can try to find out who is here with me. Maybe…it’s Terry?
I wrap the sheet around me tightly and pretty much pull it from the bed as I tiptoe down a hallway that has bright, ungodly light at the end of it.
I would almost think I died, and this is the way to heaven if my head wasn’t hurting so fucking badly.
That kind of shuts down the whole heaven thing since I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have a hangover in heaven.
Once I reach the end of the hallway, I hear voices, a male and a female one. I step around the corner and directly into a nightmare. At the door, a man stands with his back to me, but on the other side of that door is…Mrs. Abernathy.
Like something stupid, I gasp and draw their attention straight to me. Mrs. Abernathy’s mouth falls open and her eyes grow big and round as she takes me in. Half blocking her is Terry’s brother. Oh God! Half the shit I thought happened last night really did happen if he’s here.
We all stand in silence for a heartbeat, and then Mrs. Abernathy looks at Terry’s brother and frowns. “Waylon Abernathy! Did you sleep with little Oakley Nesbit?!”
And that’s when my eyes roll to the back of my head and everything goes dark for me. Somewhere off in the distance, I can hear Waylon still talking to his mom.
“I really want to tell you all about it Mom…”
Waylon wants to tell his mom all about sleeping with me. And how do I remember biting his butt when I was thrown over his shoulder, but not actually sleeping with him? I remember him dumping me in a shower. Was that where it happened? In the shower?
Why wouldn’t I feel…something?
What does it mean that I don’t feel anything? All the shit I’ve read and the movies always make it seem like you know if you’ve had sex with someone. All the romance books say I should be able to tell.
“Oakley.” A deep voice calls me from the darkness, and I realize I can’t stay passed out forever. “Oakley, honey, come on. Open your eyes for me.”
When I do, it’s to find bright blue eyes with swirls of green looking back at me.
I sit up so fast I bump my head against his chin, which is hard as fuck.
I flop back on the bed, grabbing my head.
He lets out a few curse words before rubbing his chin like maybe my head did the same damage to him that his chin did to me.
This time, when I move to sit up, he places his hand on my chest to hold me down on the bed. “Slowly. Sit up slowly this time. And put your feet,” he pulls my feet from the bed, “on the floor first before you try to sit up.”
“Um…I can’t touch the ground.”
“What?” He looks down at where my feet are hanging off the bed and straightens up. “Damn if that doesn’t drive home the point, I don’t know what will.”
“What point?”
What is he talking about? And how did I wind up in his bed? What’s going on, and why the hell am I naked? Damn it, all I have is questions and a headache that is ringing like church bells.