8. Eight
Eight
Jake
W hen I wake the following morning, my cheek is literally glued to my pillow by a thin layer of dried saliva, which is a telltale sign that it’s probably best to skip this day altogether and simply stay in bed for its duration.
Cracking an eye open, I mindlessly track the dust particles dancing in the early morning sun before landing on the glossy hardwood floor.
My head is pounding like a motherfucker, and my tongue feels like it’s grown a layer of hair overnight.
Detaching my face from the pillowcase, I wipe the drool off my skin before I flop on my back with a guttural groan.
I attempt to fit the jagged pieces of last night’s events back together while I lie in a helpless heap on my mattress, but it’s a useless task.
I remember laughing when I entered the restroom and found Carter white-knuckling the sink, desperately holding on to the contents of his stomach and staring at his reflection in a way that suggested he was questioning every single choice he ever made.
He painted such a pitiful picture I couldn’t even take pleasure in my win anymore.
I remember asking him if he needed me to call his daddy to come pick him up, and I vividly remember him telling me to go to hell.
After that, I’m drawing a total blank, something that hasn’t happened to me since my early twenties. Can’t say I’ve missed the feeling.
Fucking Megan and her stupid dares. And damn me for taking the bait every single time.
You’d think I’d know better by now. The piercing sound of my cell phone going off as it dances across the bedside table makes me flinch.
Desperate for the stabbing sensation in the back of my head to stop, I fumble for the device and snatch it up, croaking out a barely audible, “Hello.”
“Good morning, sunshine. How are we feeling?” Tessa’s cheery voice pours from the speaker, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut to keep my head from exploding.
My low grunt draws an amused chuckle out of her.
“You were quite entertaining last night. I almost forgot how much fun you can be.”
“What did I do?” I whine, already dreading the answer.
“Well, after you guys emerged from the bathroom with matching grins and a second wind, you kept yelling, ‘From the ashes we rise’, and laughing hysterically, like a couple of schoolgirls. Then you ordered virgin martinis—shaken, not stirred—and argued over the best James Bond for over an hour.”
Sean Connery, hands down.
“After that, you moved to the stage area, just as the band was finishing up their set. You grabbed Chase’s electric guitar and gave what you thought of as the best damn solo of your life.
” I moan like a dying animal as I listen to Tessa outline my humiliation in vivid detail.
“I have to admit you were surprisingly good, considering the astounding amounts of alcohol flowing through your system,” she goes on, showing no mercy.
“A few people even asked for an encore, which you were all too happy to give, but by that point, Roger was ready to close the place down and politely asked us to leave. You and Carter broke into a round of ear-splitting boos but eventually accepted the night was over and let us herd you into a waiting cab. It took me and Megan to wrestle you up the porch steps but once we opened your front door, you assured us you’re a big boy capable of looking after yourself.
Then you slammed the door in our faces with a resounding, ‘See ya later, bitches.’”
“Oh my God. Just kill me now,” I beg as Tessa’s delighted laughter trickles down the line.
“Could’ve been worse. At least you didn’t start stripping on your front lawn and gave your elderly neighbor a show she didn’t ask for. ”
“He didn’t?”
“Oh, he did.” Tessa chuckles. “When Megan tried to get him inside—while apologizing to poor Mrs. Fraser, who’ll most likely never recover from the sight of Carter’s pale ass glowing in the moonlight—he growled at her like an animal.
The poor woman almost broke an ankle in her haste to get away.
Not gonna lie, it’ll be a tad awkward the next time they meet at the mailbox. ”
Now I’m laughing at the image of my buddy’s burning face while Mrs. Fraser gives him the look in her morning robe. The one that screams she has no idea what went wrong with our generation.
“You guys were off your rockers,” Tessa needlessly points out. “Don’t worry, though. Megan and I kept the damage to a minimum. You can thank me later.”
“There’s a reason I gave up binge drinking,” I muse, throwing an arm over my eyes to block out the light.
My whole body aches, and I really need to get my ass into the bathroom and brush my teeth.
There’s a fishy taste in my mouth that I can’t quite place, but most definitely isn’t helping with the queasiness.
A loud knock has me rolling my face toward the door, and Anna sticks her head into the room.
“Hey, big brother. I just got home and wanted to make sure you’re okay. ”
“Hang on a second.” Covering the phone with one hand, I frown at my little sister. “Why wouldn’t I be? ”
“I don’t know. Maybe ‘cos the kitchen resembles a battlefield. It looks like you fed a small army, and you’ve ruined the bottom of my favorite pan. Or maybe it’s all the empty sardine cans littering the breakfast bar and stinking the place up. Aren’t you a bit old for a frat party?”
Well, that explains the lingering notes of fish. I press a hand to my gurgling stomach and blow out a controlled breath. “I’ll be down to clean up in a bit. Just do me a favor. Throw out the cans and crack a window, would you?”
Anna gives an unconcerned shrug, seemingly satisfied that I’m merely hungover and not dying from alcohol poisoning, before she pulls the door shut behind her.
“Christ,” I bite out, pressing the phone back to my ear. “Sounds like I almost burned the house down last night. Not sure what I was cooking up, but it mustn’t have been up to par because I settled on a shit-ton of sardines instead.”
Tessa cackles at the resigned way I deliver the news and offers to help clean, which I graciously decline.
I’m in no condition to get out of bed, let alone deal with singed pots and puddles of fish juice.
I don’t even like sardines. Jude began stockpiling them back when he read somewhere that certain fish fats are supposed to help with muscle soreness, and they’ve been collecting dust in the pantry ever since.
The mere thought of me wolfing down one can of the vile stuff, let alone several, makes me want to vomit.
“Well, you take it easy then, you wild man,” she orders when I tell her I’ll probably just go back to sleep for a few hours.
“Tessa?” I call out before she has a chance to hang up.
“Thanks for the damage control, and for convincing me not to kick Shane’s ass and saving me from a potential lawsuit.
I owe you one.” I hesitate for a moment before I ask the question I’ve been holding back since we shared that mind-blowing kiss last night.
“Can I take you to dinner next weekend to make up for it?” The line goes quiet, and I wait for her answer with bated breath.
After the way I behaved last night, there’s a good chance she may never want to be seen with me in public again.
“I’d love to, Jake, and you’re very welcome. Anything for you. Always.” The sincerity behind her words does funny things to my insides, and I thank my lucky stars that I haven’t scared her off. Then again, she’s seen me at my worst, so she’s probably pretty desensitized.
“Great. I’ll pick you up after work on Friday?
Say, around six? Oh, and wear something nice.
” I end the call before she can change her mind and close my eyes with a contented smile.
When I drift off, it’s to the memory of Tessa’s lush body moving against mine, and the prospect of a repeat performance.