Chapter 8 Sloane
Sloane
Overwhelming nausea. Throbbing at my temples. Oh, and no memory of how the hell I ended up in bed.
Next to Eden Sawyer.
Who, by the way, is only in a bra. I haven’t had the balls to check under the covers to see if she’s wearing pants.
I’m not.
Nothing happened, though. Right?
Oh God, what did I do? I never get that drunk, ever!
I remember leaving Eden to her night, disappointed she’d not invited me to stay with her. Then Becca handed me a shot of…ew, tequila. Then another one. I think I danced with Keira again.
That’s it. Nothing but black fuzz after that.
One thing is for sure: I cannot let Eden see me in this state. Well, not again. I’m mortified. Did she have to look after me? Where is Becca?
Gingerly rolling my head to the side, I see a glass of water.
My mouth feels like a dry loofa. The smell of old alcohol has my stomach rolling.
My head pounds to the beat of my heart as I take the glass and sip.
The water provides a moment’s worth of relief.
The simple motion of moving my head has me scrambling out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom.
I make it just in time to paint the toilet.
My body shakes as I hug the bowl, waiting for the next round of vomiting to begin.
I’m so angry with myself. This is so not me.
Sure, I like to have a good time. I’ve been to every one of Bryce’s parties, but never, and I mean never, have I gotten that wasted.
Usually I have a few shots, maybe a beer, before jumping over to soda or water.
I like a good time, not a hangover. Plus, no one ever makes smart decisions when they’re drunk.
So why did I do this to myself?
I’m deep in my mind when I feel another wave of grossness make its way up my throat. I can only hope Eden can’t hear me.
“Here, let’s get your hair out of the way.”
Her voice is low and soft. I feel my hair get swept away from the inside of the toilet. She gathers it up and tucks it down the back of the t-shirt I’m wearing. It’s not mine.
Throwing up some more, I groan pitifully. A warm sensation caresses my back. It’s Eden’s hand. She’s rubbing slow big circles, and it’s really comforting.
“It’s alright. I think you’re nearly done. You’ll feel better with it out of your stomach.”
I’d feel better if I could somehow make the past twelve hours disappear or reset. Then I wouldn’t have to turn around and see the look on Eden’s face. I can’t imagine she’s impressed.
The state I’m in is one of the many reasons she doesn’t like parties. How could I possibly ask her out now?
“Can you stand up?”
Using the back of my hand to wipe my mouth, I nod. The movement doesn’t have me scrambling to vomit again, so that’s progress.
My limbs feel shaky as I cling to Eden’s outstretched hand. Her other hand is still on my back, soothing my clammy skin.
“Want to get back in bed? It’s still early and I think a bit more sleep would help.”
She’s right, it is still early. The sun is barely over the horizon. Without a word, I start my way back to the bed with Eden at my side. She’s practically propping me up. I swear to God I won’t touch a drop of alcohol for the rest of the year.
I moan as I slip back into bed. The softness of the mattress feels so good. My head sinks into the pillow and I can already feel myself drifting off.
The bed dips. Opening my eyes slightly, I watch Eden gently maneuver herself under the covers. She was wearing pants, which both thrills me and disappoints at the same time.
Maybe a drunk fumble was my only shot with her. Then again, I would probably drop out of high school and run away if that’s what happened. Eden isn’t someone to have a quickie with. She’s long-term goals. Well, for me anyway.
The heat of her body has me feeling dizzy. I never knew the closeness of another person could make me feel like this. It’s electrifying yet calming.
“Try to sleep, Sloane,” she says softly.
My eyes lock on hers. This could’ve been the moment. If I didn’t have vomit breath and a raging headache, this could’ve been the time I made my move.
So fucking angry at myself.
“Hey,” she says, and I feel her run a thumb over my pinched brow. “Stop worrying. Just rest.”
Another pass with her thumb, then another. Wow, it’s super relaxing. I can feel my headache receding slightly with every stroke of her soft hand.
When my eyes open again, the sun is much higher in the sky and I’m alone in bed.
I feel so much better for getting a little more sleep.
My abs hurt from retching earlier, but that’s my punishment for being so stupid.
The spot where Eden slept is still warm.
I’m kind of grateful she’s not here. It gives me a little time to compose myself.
Or not.
The bedroom door opens, and Eden steps through it wearing one of Bryce’s t-shirts. It has to be his because no one else I know loves Elmo like he does. He doesn’t give a shit that he’s nearly eighteen and still loves a children’s TV character, and I applaud him for it.
She’s carrying a tray and wearing a smile. She’s so pretty.
“Morning. Feeling any better?”
My face heats, but I try to push past it. The damage is done now. “Yeah, a little.”
“Good. Let’s get some sustenance in you.”
Setting the tray next to me, I spot a mug of coffee, a plate with a sandwich, and a plate of scrambled eggs on it.
“I went the traditional English way of soaking up a hangover. Grease!”
My stomach revolts a little at the thought.
Eden laughs. She must have seen my face go green. “I know it’s probably the last thing you want, but trust me: a greasy bacon and sausage sandwich with ketchup will cure you. I added my secret ingredient too.”
“What’s the secret ingredient?” I rasp out. My throat is sore.
“Cheese.”
“I don’t think I can stomach it, Eden.”
“Sure you can. I promise it will work. Just try a few mouthfuls. Even if you can’t finish it, you need to line your stomach again.”
Leaving the tray next to me, Eden takes her coffee cup, walks around to the other side of the bed and climbs back in. My heart thumps a little harder as she settles in next to me. A flash of our future crosses my mind. Lazy mornings like this. Well, minus the hangover and vomiting.
I feel her nudge my shoulder and look pointedly at the sandwich. “You’re a vegetarian,” I blurt.
“Well yeah, but my family isn’t. I don’t mind handling meat or cooking it.”
“What do you eat for a hangover?”
She shrugs. “I’ve never had one. But if I ever do, I’ll have some Tofurky bacon.”
Shame. That’s all I feel. Eden is looking at me with kind eyes. There’s no judgement at all. No, that’s all internal. I really hope I didn’t do anything bad. With Eden, or with anyone else.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I pick up the sandwich and take a small bite.
It’s good, and my mouth waters in a good way.
Spurred on by my sudden hunger, I take another bite.
Washing it down with some coffee, I dare to look at Eden again.
She’s looking at me, confused. “You shouldn’t have had to look after me last night. ”
“I was happy to. Anyway, you pretty much passed out the second you hit the bed. I had to undress you. I’m sorry for that, but your clothes were a mess.”
My face heats again. “Did I throw up on myself?”
“No, but you did have half a keg of beer and other assorted drinks on you. Um, I thought it best if you wore my t-shirt instead.”
Why is she looking embarrassed?
“Thank you. Really, and I’m sorry. Whether you minded looking after me or not, I shouldn’t have drank like that. I never have before.”
“Did something happen?” she asks. I’d love to answer the question, but I’m not sure if I can.
No, nothing particular happened, I don’t think. Apart from leaving her, that is. God, was I so disappointed she didn’t want to spend the night watching movies with me that I drank myself silly?
“No, just one too many. Um, how did I get upstairs?”
“Becca. She was pissed too. Um, she sort of dropped you on my shoulder and left. She’s in the kitchen right now, cursing the world. It’s quite funny actually.”
The spark of mischief in Eden’s eyes makes me smile for the first time today.
“I may or may not have cooked your breakfast with a few extra bangs of the frying pan. Oh, and the radio might have been a little higher than necessary.” She chuckles. “Perks of being the only sober one not suffering. I get to be evil.”
Chewing the last morsel of sandwich, I’m happy to feel mostly human again. “I’m sure we all deserve it.”
“Everyone is awake downstairs, but I thought you might appreciate eating alone.”
“I do. Thank you, Eden. You’ve been a wonderful friend.”
The spark in her eyes dims slightly. Did I say something wrong?
“Yeah, sure. What are friends for, right?” Her smile is smaller and tighter.
If I’m not mistaken—and I could be—Eden is upset I called her a friend. Which means she either doesn’t see me as a friend and I’m being presumptive, or she wants to be more than that and my friend-zoning her is upsetting.
Chewing my lip, I go for broke. I’ve humiliated myself in front of her, and yet she’s still here, being so sweet.
I’ve already waited three years to talk to her.
I don’t have another three years to work up the courage to ask her out.
I’m the girl who goes after what she wants in life in every way but my love life. Maybe it’s time to change that.
“Eden…would, um…would you maybe want to grab dinner with me?”
She sips her coffee. “Sure.”
I’m getting the feeling she’s not catching my meaning. “I mean as a date.”
Is choking on coffee a good sign? I hope so, because Eden just inhaled most of her cup and is now coughing it up with wide eyes.
Shit. I think I fucked this up. Why am I so bad at this? No, why am I so bad at this with her?
I’ve had plenty of girls ask me out. Hell, I’ve even flirted with girls and had a few girlfriends, albeit short-term ones. Either way, I was able to get through the interactions smoothly, my natural charm winning out. With Eden it’s just not there.
“Sorry,” she splutters, slapping a hand on her chest. She coughs a couple more times before sitting up and looking at me. Her eyes are watery from the effort of getting the coffee out of her windpipe. “You…you want to go on a date with me?”
“Well…I thought…um, yes?”
A small grin evolves on her face. “Did you just say yes in the form of a question?”
Oh, she’s teasing me.
“Probably,” I reply with a shy smile. I like this about her. Eden has a way of breaking through the awkwardness. Usually it’s with brutal honesty, which I like. But I like her teasing, too.
Her gray eyes roam my face for a second. I wish I could read her mind. “I’d like that,” she finally says.
My response is cut off by Becca shuffling into the room and then the bed. She looks as bad as I felt first thing this morning. Her hair is a tangled mess, and her makeup is smeared.
“I want to die,” she groans. I scoot over to give her some more room. It just so happens that I’m now a little closer to Eden, and I can’t say I’m sorry about it.
She smells good.
“Are you dying too?” Becca asks, completely missing the fact I’m in bed with Eden and we’re having a moment.
“I feel better.”
“That’s not fair,” Becca whines. Eden laughs, which finally alerts Becca to her presence.
Sitting bolt upright, she leans forward and stares at Eden. “Eden!”
“Becca!”
“You’re in bed with Sloane!”
“Yes. We shared a room. You knew that was going to happen yesterday. And you just saw me in the kitchen, like ten minutes ago.”
Becca looks from Eden to me, and back again. “Did you look after her? I can’t remember anything past…” Becca’s face turns a tomato shade of red.
Interesting.
Eden scratches the back of her neck. “Um, yeah, I made sure she was okay.”
“Are you in her t-shirt?” Becca asks me.
Oh my god, this is awful. “Yes, um, I was a mess last night and Eden gave me her t-shirt to sleep in.”
Becca’s eyes get a fraction wider. She leans forward again and looks at Eden. “What did you sleep in?”
“My bra,” she says matter-of-factly. “I didn’t have any other clothes and my hoodie is disgusting.”
Tired of the inquisition, I decide to turn the tables. Eden has only just agreed to go on a date with me. I’m not having Becca’s invasive questions change her mind.
“And where exactly did you end up? You were gone most of the night. I only saw you when you gave me shots. Thanks, by the way. You know tequila hates me.”
“I…well. Just…dancing and stuff.”
“Where? You weren’t on the dance floor.”
Eden is looking highly amused, and I can’t blame her.
“Ugh, stop harassing me, Sloane. I’m fragile.” With that, Becca dramatically falls backwards, pulling the cover over her face.
With a satisfied grin, I look at Eden. All I want to do is talk about our date, but not with Becca in earshot.
“So, we should probably get up and head out,” Eden says. I can see she wants to talk about the prospect of a date too, but it’s not gonna happen right now.
“Yeah, you’re right. My parents will expect me home soon.”
A pathetic wail comes from under the covers. Sloane and I giggle.
“Come on, Becs,” I say, whipping the duvet back. She glares at me for a second. “We need to hustle.”
“Can I come back to your place? Mom will throw a shit fit if I turn up like this.”
It’s then I remember I was supposed to have my first art lesson with Sloane. “Can we have a rain check on the art lesson?”
Slipping out of bed, Sloane gathers her hoodie. “Of course. Just let me know when you want to do it. Are we still on for walking to school next week?”
“Yes! I mean, sure.” Smooth as gravel, Sloane. Well done.
“Great. I look forward to it.”
We smile at each other again. This feels like the beginning of something.