Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LORELAI
Rolling over in bed, I feel like I got hit by a truck. From the throbbing in my temples, I’m guessing it ran over my head. Looking at the clock, I discover it’s only eleven p.m. As I sit up, a brutal wave of nausea overtakes me, so I throw the covers back and sprint across the hall. I get to the bathroom in the nick of time.
I feel a little bit better after throwing up but if I had to guess, I’m still pretty drunk. The last thing I remember is telling Allie that I absolutely do not need a third drink, especially as I only ate a couple bites of my burger. That’s when I start to wonder how I got home. A flash of Luke and me in a car comes to mind, but I immediately know that must be a dream. I’ve been revisiting a recurring fantasy about him taking me to the prom. OMG, Luke is back in Elk Lake and he’s staying at my house!
Staggering back to my room, I hurry to straighten the bedding so it’s ready for him when he comes home. That’s when I notice the glass of water and Tylenol at my bedside. Picking up the phone, I try to send a text to Allie, but I can’t figure out where the send button is. Even though Allie got me drunk against my will, she’s a good friend. Although, I suppose it wasn’t really against my will as I took every sip of my own accord. Gentle reminder: no more lemon drops. Ever.
Grabbing the bottle of painkillers and the glass of water, I stagger down the hallway to my parents’ room. Then I crawl into their bed. Even though I desperately want to remember what happened earlier, I need to sleep more.
I immediately fall back into the dream I was having about Luke and me going to prom. The theme is inexplicably Jaws and the school gym is decorated with posters of sharks with their mouths hanging open menacingly. The repetitive thumping of the theme song plays as it builds a tension that doesn’t quite fit the setting.
Looking down, I see that my dress is made from the same rubber material they use for wetsuits, and I have a snorkel draped around my neck. This is so weird that I make a mental note to complain to the prom committee.
Looking around the gym, I spot Luke standing by the punchbowl. He pulls a long straw out of his suit pocket and puts it into the bowl before taking a drink. I hope everyone doesn’t do that. Talk about unhygienic. Yet, I don’t mind that he does it because let’s face it, if I have my way, I’m gonna suck the lips right off that boy later tonight.
Luke sees me and raises his hand in a wave before walking in my direction. I immediately throw my shoulders back, hoping this stupid dress shows off my curves to their best advantage. I didn’t develop until late and hope against hope that I at least remembered to stuff my bra. That’s when Luke reaches me, but instead of stopping, he walks right by.
I turn around and call out to him, but he just keeps going until he reaches a shark wearing a tiara and pink tutu. They dance to “Something from Nothing” by the Foo Fighters while I stare on, wondering what in the heck is happening.
That dream leads to one where I’m skydiving in a wedding dress. I don’t realize until after I jump out of the plane that I’m not wearing a parachute. But dreams are crazy and for some reason that doesn’t scare me. Instead, I start posing toward an invisible camera like I’m taking pictures for some extreme social media page.
I fall for what feels like hours before I finally hit the ground. But instead of the impact killing me, it feels like I land on another person. My target shouts, “What in the hell?” Then my body is thrown to the side.
Somewhere in the fog of this nightmare, I hear a voice yell, “What are you doing in my bed?” It sounds alarmingly like Luke. But it can’t be his because he’s sleeping in my room.
Cracking my eyes open the barest of slits, I see a shadowing figure sitting upright next to me. In response I let out a blood curdling scream.
The figure jumps out of bed and shouts back, “Why are you screaming? What are you doing in here?”
I lean over and turn on the bedside lamp which is when I discover Luke standing above me wearing only his boxer shorts. “What are you doing here?” I demand, while counting the indentations of his six-pack. Make that eight. Nice.
“I was trying to sleep.”
“In my bed?” I’m not mad, just really confused.
“No, in your parents’ bed. Noah’s room kind of stunk, so I figured this is where you wanted me.”
“ I sleep in here while my parents are in Florida,” I inform him.
Now he looks confused. “You were sleeping in your room earlier this afternoon.”
He saw that, huh? “I was getting my room ready for you, and I must have dozed off.” That sounds lame, even to my intoxicated ears.
“So, you sleep in here and not in your own room?” The poor guy is really agitated.
Nodding my head causes my eyeballs to throb, but I do it anyway.
Luke doesn’t say anything else. He simply turns around and walks out the door. I’m too embarrassed to go after him. I’ll apologize for the mix-up in the morning. Maybe I’ll even make those canned biscuit cinnamon rolls for him.
Once my heart rate slows down from the shock of finding Luke in bed with me, I turn out the light and go back to sleep. Happily, I don’t remember those dreams.
The next thing I know, there’s sunlight peeking through the blinds. It’s directly in my eyes so I turn on my other side. Looking at my phone I discover it’s eight o’clock. That’s when, slowly but surely, memories creep back into my consciousness. Holy crow, Luke and I were in bed together!
Mortification washes over me and heats up my face to what feels like a bad sunburn. Luke saw me sleeping in my old room which made him think my parents’ room was his. This is bad. Really bad. The guy would have to be stupid not to remember my stalker-like ways from my early teen years. He probably thought I did this on purpose. Yet I was the first one in bed—at least I think I was— so this is really his fault. That realization makes me feel a lot better.
Getting out of bed, I see that I’m still in the clothes I wore last night. The stabbing pain in my temples helps me to discern that I had too much to drink.
Going into the bathroom, I take off my clothes and get into a hot shower. The pelting water on my head helps and hurts at the same time. While lathering my hair with my favorite apple scented shampoo, I try to put all the pieces of last night together.
I think about Allie and me eating at Pop’s. I recall her telling me about her husband which causes my fists to clench. She is so much better without him. I recollect losing my appetite, and then I remember the lemon drops. That’s why my head hurts so badly.
I try to figure out how I got home, but the only thing that comes to mind is the dream I had about Luke and me going to prom together. I make a mental note to call Allie later to see if she can fill in the gaps for me.
After getting out of the shower, I dry off before putting on a comfy pair of sweats and a hoodie. I have a choice to make. I can either go downstairs and act like nothing happened last night, or I can stay up here until I’m sure Luke has left for the day.
Walking to the bedroom door, I open it while staying hidden behind it. Then I listen for any sounds coming from my room. There’s nothing, so I tiptoe down the hall. I discover my room is empty, so Luke must already be downstairs. Exhaling loudly in relief, I continue to stare at my bed. It’s rumpled like it’s been slept in, but the covers are pulled up as though an attempt has been made to make it.
Luke Phillips slept in my bed last night. As that image soaks into my consciousness, I feel teenage giddiness flow through me.
I hear a creaking noise behind me and immediately realize my mistake. Luke isn’t in my room because he’s in the bathroom across the hall. I turn to run back to my parents’ room, but something in my brain decides that it’s too far away, so I wind up dashing into my own room. I make a run for the closet and manage to cross the threshold in the nick of time.
From my secret vantage point, I watch Luke as he walks into the room. He’s only wearing a towel. Holy heck! What do I do now? I can’t stand here and watch him undress, can I? Well, maybe just for a second. I chastise myself not to act like a perve-o, but I take too long. Luke drops his towel which causes me to gasp, loudly.
“Lorelai?” I hear him call out. He doesn’t sound pleased.
He knows I’m here. All he has to do is walk over for confirmation. “Oh, hey, Luke …” I sound like an idiot. “I just came in here to get a … a … a sweater.”
He rustles around for a moment before I see his shadow creep toward the door frame. I turn to face my sweater collection, so I don’t have to make eye contact with him. “Did you find one?” Oh yeah, he’s mad.
Grabbing the first sweater I see, I take it off the stack and pull it over my head. Oh dear, it’s tight so I know it’s an old one. But the only way out of this situation is to keep going with the lie. Turning around, I force a smile to my face, and blurt out, “Good, you put some pants on.” Great, now he knows I saw his towel fall off. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut around him?
Embarrassment blooms across Luke’s cheeks. “Lorelai, I think we need to talk.”
Dear God, no! We can never speak of this, ever. “No need,” I tell him. “I’ll just move more of my clothes over to my parents’ room, so this never happens again. But I’ll do it later so you can keep getting ready.”
I try to scurry past him, but he gently grabs my arm to stop me. “ This is the sweater you came in here to get?”
“Yes, it is,” I tell him emphatically. “It’s my favorite.” Belatedly, I look down and see that I’m wearing Mickey Mouse’s face embroidered across a purple acrylic garment that’s so small it’s practically cropped. If that’s not bad enough, there’s a big hole in one of the armpits and a snag running through Mickey’s face.
There’s nothing I can do but brazen this out, so I disengage from Luke’s hand and announce, “Mickey Mouse is my ideal man.” Then I make a run for it.