Chapter 8
Hours later, I wake in bed in an eerily quiet, dark room.
Well, quiet, except for the pounding in my skull.
Draped over windows are thick burgundy curtains that blot out the moonlight.
A matching duvet and black sheets, silky and soft, drape over my body, woven from the finest Egyptian cotton.
Everything here is effortlessly luxe. Perfectly curated.
I’ve seen it all so many times before. I know exactly where I am.
Hayes’s room.
Hayes’s bed, technically.
I bolt upright, and a flash of pain slices through my skull.
“Shit, that hurts,” I croak, one hand flying to my temples. My head feels like it’s been dropped into a blender and set to purée.
Then—
Laughter. Low and familiar.
“Hayes? Is that you?”
More laughter.
Then… snoring?
I scramble to my feet, dragging half the comforter with me. Panic spikes as my mind spins through every worst-case scenario.
Did I somehow become an unconscious bystander in a tryst between Hayes and one of his countless female admirers and end up in the middle of a threesome?
Then, an even more alarming thought.
Please, please, please don’t let it be Amber.
If I’ve just spent the night in the same bed as Hayes and my sister, I will literally launch myself right out of his second-story window.
“Who’s in here?” I grit out.
“Relax, Sleeping Beauty. It’s just us… and the dog.”
My eyes adjust to the dark—and there he is. Hayes, smirking on the far side of the bed. He pulls back the covers to reveal the dog underneath, fast asleep, curled up like a baby and tucked snugly into Hayes’s side.
Correction.
Tucked snugly into Hayes’s shirtless, glorious, carved-from-freaking-marble side.
I swallow hard, watching as his chest rises in slow rhythm. Each breath traces the hard lines of his abs and the sharp, sinful V of muscle that disappears into low-slung pajama bottoms. My thoughts short-circuit and it takes everything in me to drag my gaze away.
“Uh… what am I doing in your bed?” I ask, blinking through my temporary, lust-induced haze. “Wait—what are you doing here?”
“Where else would I be? It’s my room, genius.” He chuckles, wrapping warm fingers around my wrist, and tugging—effortless, commanding—until I’m pulled right back down into the bed again. “Now shut up and go back to sleep.”
His leg brushes mine under the covers and heat skims up my thigh. I freeze, nerves sparking to life, every cell in my body on high alert.
What the hell am I doing sleeping in my best friend’s bed?
Should I leave?
I should leave, right?
But his sheets are so warm. His pillows so damn soft. And he smells so freaking good, like clean skin and the faintest hint of that addictive cedar scent I swear is designed to ruin me…
I let myself sink deeper into the mattress. We’re so close I can feel the heat of his body, his presence melting the last of my resistance. It’s late, I’m still drunk, and I’m so, so tired.
“Right… your room…” I mumble, settling into the silken bedding. “It’s just—weren’t you with Amber earlier? I thought I saw you guys heading upstairs.”
He rolls over to face the wall.
“She wanted to use the bathroom so I let her. Then I kicked her out and crashed,” he says, his voice muffled in the pillow. “Any other burning questions, Nancy Drew? Or can I go back to sleep now?”
Relief crashes over me like a wave. I exhale all at once, the tension draining from my limbs. I can’t believe it. Nothing happened with my sister.
Or with anyone else tonight, from the look of things.
It’s surprising, to say the least. Hayes doesn’t exactly go to bed alone after these parties, and Amber’s not the only one who’s been circling.
Not that he’s a player or anything.
Just… well. He’s Hayden Vassilios. Stupidly hot. Effortlessly charming. He walks into a room and every girl looks up. Hell, most of the guys do too. He could have anyone he wants. So if he wasn’t busy hooking up with my sister or anyone else, then—
I shoot upright again, heart suddenly racing again.
“Uh… we didn’t, um…” I fumble, my words getting tied up in my dry throat. “Did we?”
He groans again, rolling halfway back toward me.
“Did we what?”
The last few hours are a total blur. My head throbs. My mouth tastes like regret. I glance down—and freeze.
I’m not wearing my jeans anymore. All I’ve got on is just my underwear and the black velvet corset I wore to the party.
Did I kick them off in my sleep? Or… did someone take them off?
Alarm ripples through me.
I’m in Hayes’s bed. He’s half-naked. I’m half-naked. And I have no memory of how I got here.
Please, God, tell me I didn’t do something humiliating. Or stupid. Or irreversible.
“You know…” My face is hot with embarrassment. “Hook up?”
He blinks. And then—bursts out laughing. Full-body, bed-shaking, asshole laughter.
“What?” he chokes out. “Are you serious right now?”
“I’m in your bed,” I say, gesturing helplessly between us. “And you’re shirtless! And—I seem to be missing pants?”
“Nothing happened, you lunatic.” He snorts. “You pulled your jeans off yourself, climbed into my bed, and passed out like a toddler.”
I drop my head back onto the pillow.
“Oh, thank God.”
There’s a pause.
Then, almost too quiet to hear, he asks, “Why? Did you want to?”
I freeze.
“Want to what?”
“You know… hook up?”
He laughs low and deep against the pillow, but there’s something unreadable in his eyes when he glances over at me again. Something that doesn’t feel like a joke at all.
My heart does this weird little flip in my chest. I mean… he’s definitely joking.
Right?
“No, you idiot,” I shoot back, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m just shocked you didn’t spend the night with Amber. Or some sorority girl with fake hair extensions and a spray tan.”
His grin fades.
“Is that really what you think of me?” he asks, quieter now. “That I just hook up with whoever’s in front of me?”
He doesn’t sound angry—not exactly—more hurt. Now that I think about it, it was kind of a rude way to phrase it.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say quickly. “I just meant… you’re a guy. A good-looking guy. And we’re in college, and that’s what good-looking guys do in college.” I tug at the edge of the blanket. “I guess I was just surprised. That’s all.”
There. That sounds slightly more diplomatic and way less like I just called my best friend a manwhore.
He lets the silence stretch.
“So…” His mouth curves into a slow, smug grin. “You think I’m good-looking?”
I smack him under the covers.
“Oh, shut up.”
The sheets rustle faintly as he shifts underneath, moving just a little closer to me. It’s nothing, really, barely a movement, but suddenly the space between us feels smaller, tighter. Something in me stirs, sharp and wanting.
But then, a flash of memory—hours ago, me riffling through my mother’s things—and a weight slams into my chest. An awful, gnawing twist of worry hits as I remember why I came to Hayes’s party in the first place.
“Listen, Hay. I need to tell you something.” I pause, forcing myself to breathe normally. “It’s about my mom.”
That gets his attention.
“What is it?” He glances over, his eyes wide open and alert. “Is Mel okay?”
The concern in his voice is so immediate, so genuine, it makes my chest ache. He’s such a good friend to me, and he’s always been especially fond of my mother. He knows what she means to me. How she’s all I’ve ever had.
“I found something tonight. Something she’s been hiding from me.” I fiddle anxiously with the soft edges of the duvet. “Brace yourself, okay? It’s really… weird.”
He arches a brow. “Weirder than usual?”
Despite my nerves, my lips twitch with faint amusement. It’s a perfectly fair question where my mother is concerned.
Hayes has witnessed more than his share of my mom’s most unhinged moments, like the time she burned sage in the school parking lot to “cleanse my academic aura.” Or when she insisted we all wear crystal amulets during flu season.
And who could forget the Thanksgiving she canceled entirely because Mercury was in retrograde and she was convinced the day was cosmically doomed?
We ended up eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in separate bedrooms, and I watched The Nightmare Before Christmas alone.
“I… I don’t even know where to start.” My throat tightens as I think about her letters to my father again. “I don’t know what it all means.”
“Alligator, relax,” he says, gentler now. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”
I open my mouth to respond, then freeze as a wave of sudden nausea slams into me, violent and powerful. My entire body lurches as baklava and wine start coming up.
“Oh God,” I whisper, hand flying to my mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
I bolt out of his bed and race to the bathroom, barely managing to slam the door in time. My stomach revolts as I collapse over the toilet, everything I foolishly consumed the last few hours erupting in waves.
I retch so hard, so thoroughly, my ribs scream in pain. It feels like I’m being turned inside out. For a moment, I think I might actually die.
Finally, mercifully, it ends.
I slump back, shaking, palms braced on the edge of the seat as Hayes’s fancy Japanese toilet flushes automatically.
A soft whir fills the room and the bowl cleans itself, like it’s erasing every trace of my bad decisions.
I wipe my mouth, watching my insides disappear without ever having to lift a hand.
Imagine… being so rich, your toilet flushes itself.
Once my wobbly legs are ready to cooperate again, I stand and rinse my mouth with the mouthwash Hayes keeps under the sink and splash cold water on my face.
Hayes’s eyes are already closed when I crawl back into bed. He looks fast asleep—or at least pretending to be.
I reach for my phone on his nightstand and nearly have a heart attack when I see the time.
3:02 a.m.
Well… that’s not good.
My mom is going to lose it.