Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
I woke up to the feeling of something cold pressing against my forehead.
I grunted and batted with my hand to displace whatever the thing was. My flailing arm smacked against flesh.
"Ow," I heard Nathan say wryly.
I peeked my eyes open. Everything was bright. I squeezed them closed then blinked a few times. My eyes finally focused on the man sitting next to me on the sofa holding a damp cloth. Nathan had taken me back to his place.
I struggled to sit up, finding myself fighting with a blanket. It felt soft on my skin. Too much skin. I peeked underneath. I was still only wearing my bikini.
"What happened?" I groaned. "What time is it?"
"It's about two in the morning," Nathan said. "You got trashed, tried to fling yourself off a rooftop and then passed out. I figured you wouldn't want your parents to see me bringing you home half naked and drunk."
"You'd be correct," I murmured as I rubbed at my eyes.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Still a little tipsy," I answered truthfully. "But I'm not completely smashed, if that's what you're worried about."
"I didn't know how much you had to drink," he said. "I was worried about alcohol poisoning."
"I didn't have that much," I said, but it could have been a lie because I honestly couldn't remember how much I'd left in that bottle before things started getting blurry.
I did remember a few things. Climbing up the outside wall of Cameron Thorne's mansion. Getting splashed by his cannonball. Jessie scolding him.
I remembered Jessie saying she didn't want me to get hurt by Nathan.
My chest felt tight. I sat up and tugged the blanket to my shoulders.
"Where are my clothes?" I asked.
Nathan handed me an overly large t-shirt and pair of men's boxers.
"Your stuff got soaked down by the pool. I've put it in the machine to dry, but for now you can borrow some of mine."
I took the clothing and stood to tug them on over my swimsuit. Feeling less exposed now, I finally turned to Nathan.
"You should drink some water," he said.
The concern in his eyes normally would have warmed me, but now it only filled me with a combined sense of dread and despair.
Did he actually care?
Did he care too much?
Or was he just stringing me along?
I looked away and padded over to the kitchen, avoiding his gaze. I took a bottle of water from the fridge and downed half of it in one swig.
Nathan approached me on silent feet. He stopped a few feet away from me, my back to him.
"Is there a reason why you decided to get completely hammered tonight?" he asked.
"I told you I wanted to experience a raging party," I replied with a feigned shrug.
"It has nothing to do with what happened upstairs in that bedroom?" he asked.
"Why would it?"
"Becca."
He said my name, just that one word, like he had before. This time the tone was entirely different. It wasn't soft and reverent. Nathan sounded disappointed. Almost hurt.
I turned to face him, not knowing what to say. I wanted to ask him so many things.
Do you really feel that way about me?
How can I believe what you told me is true?
How many girls have you said those exact words to?
But the worst of it was, I didn't know what answer I wanted to hear.
The thought of being just another notch on Nathan's bedpost threatened to send me reeling, made nausea rise in my stomach, made tears pinprick the back of my eyes.
But it also sent a sense of relief flooding through me.
He couldn't possibly mean all the things he said. I was just another girl, just someone to have some fun with. That was all I had expected, right from the beginning. That was all I had wanted.
Or, it had been what I wanted.
But now…
"Thanks for taking care of me," was all I could come up with.
"Of course," he replied, still staring at me.
"I should get going," I continued. "It's late. I promised my parents I'd have brunch with them tomorrow."
Nathan touched my arm.
"Why don't you get some sleep and I'll drive you home tomorrow morning?" he asked.
"It's fine," I said. "I'll just call a taxi."
He quirked a smile. "You want to take a taxi home wearing boxers and a t-shirt?"
"I guess I can wait until my clothes are dry," I murmured, fiddling with the hem of the shirt. "Sorry to make you leave the party early."
"It's okay," he said. "Wouldn't have been any fun without you, anyway."
"Do you go to a lot of parties like these?" I asked.
What I really meant was, do you bring a lot of girls to parties like these?
"Probably not as many as you would expect, but definitely more than I should," he said. "You'd think being a rock star would mean non-stop parties, but I actually go to fewer now than when we were indie. You don't want to always be hungover at the recording studio or before every concert."
"Sounds responsible of you."
"Damn," he said. "Another word no one ever uses to describe me, and here we are, all alone, with no one to witness it."
"I don't know why you always pretend to be so?—"
"Careless?" he filled in with a shrug. "I spent my whole life being the responsible one. Growing up, because my mom was sick a lot, I had to take care of a lot of stuff."
Right. If his mom was sick when he was younger, it made sense that he would have been the one to take care of her.
Maybe he wasn't as irresponsible as I thought. Maybe he was someone I could rely on.
But even if that were true, it still wouldn't be fair to put that on him.
"Now I'm living the dream," he continued. "I've got all the fame and money I could ever want. I can pay to give her the best care in the world. Why not enjoy myself and do whatever the hell I want now that I can?"
"I get it," I said. "You're doing the same thing I am. Living life to the fullest and all that."
Except my experiences didn't involve leading on women and making them think they were special when really they were just one more in a long line of?—
Stop , I snapped at myself, refusing to think those thoughts, brutally shoving them to the back of my mind.
I hadn't realized Jessie's words had affected me so much.
"So did your first house party live up to expectations?" Nathan asked.
"I never got around to skinny dipping, but all in all I'd call it a success," I said.
"Let's put that on the list of things to do."
"You're keeping a list?" I asked. "What else is on it?"
His eyes sparkled. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you."
I couldn't stop a smile from spreading across my face.
"Why don't we get some rest?" he said. "It's late and you're still sort of wavering on your feet."
"I'm not drunk anymore," I said.
"You're not shit-faced anymore," he corrected. "But there's still alcohol in your system. You should sleep it off."
I gave in, nodding in agreement. I was tired, and Nathan was right that I wasn't exactly steady on my feet.
I headed to his bedroom, not even stopping to consider whether we would share the bed. I stopped just before sliding into the covers.
"My teeth feel fuzzy," I said, running my tongue over them and making a face.
"I've got an unopened toothbrush in the bathroom," Nathan said. "Feel free to use whatever's in there."
Nathan's bathroom was simple, with a ceramic tub and blue shower curtain with cartoon sailboats on it, along with a matching towel hanging up on the rod. That was about as coordinated in decor as I'd seen in his home so far. I wondered if Nathan liked boats, or if he simply thought a nautical theme fit a place where a person immersed themselves in water. It was oddly cute.
I opened a few drawers and cabinets, looking for a new toothbrush.
I paused when I opened the one under the sink.
There wasn't a toothbrush. There were more than a dozen toothbrushes in brand new packaging. There were also packets of makeup removal cloths, a few sticks of floral-scented travel sized deodorant and even a discretely arranged selection of items for a women's sanitary needs.
I gaped at the assortment.
On the one hand, it was thoughtful of Nathan to provide such things for his lady guests.
But the sheer number of items was… surprising, to say the least.
Surprising and disheartening.
A dozen toothbrushes?
How many women did Nathan have coming and going that he needed a dozen toothbrushes all at once?
Jessie's words came back to me, along with the very first words I'd ever read online about the guitarist of Cherry Lips.
Guys like Nathan…
…go through women like tissues.
My chest went tight. My throat closed. I slammed the cabinet door shut.
"Everything okay?" Nathan called out from the bedroom.
"Fine," I replied curtly.
I stalked back to bed, having forgotten about brushing my teeth entirely.
Nathan was tucked into the right side of the bed already, leaving the left available for me.
"Feeling okay?" he asked.
I nodded sharply.
He cocked his head at me.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
I opened my mouth to say nothing , but I knew that was passive aggressive bullshit.
Didn't they always say not to go to bed angry?
"You must have a lot of women over, to have stocked up so well," I said.
He looked confused before understanding dawned on his face. He firmed his lips.
"Is that a problem?" he asked. "I try to be considerate."
"There sure are a lot of women to be considerate for."
"Why are you so upset?" he asked. "Are you mad that I sleep around? It's not like you didn't know that going in to this."
"And what exactly is this ?" I asked, stressing the last word. He opened his mouth to reply. I cut him off.
"I'm going to sleep on the sofa," I told him.
"You don't have to?—"
"Good night," I said, whirling around and shutting the door.
I stalked over to the sofa and threw the blanket over me, curling up into a ball.
I'd cut Nathan off because I didn't know what answer would satisfy me. I didn't know what answer I wanted to hear.
I didn't know which answer would hurt me and which would terrify me.
All I knew was that my heart was being torn in two.