16. Paige
I wake up with the worst headache I’ve ever had in my life. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, which then backed up over the top of me, just so it could hit me one last time before driving off into the blinding morning sun. I glare at the window that is the perpetrator for such a bright light. Early morning sun rays slip through the living room window, casting the entire room in a golden glow.
Living room…
Why was I in the living room?
I must’ve fallen asleep on the couch, but I don’t even remember sitting down…
I bolt upright, which only causes a sharp pain to ricochet through my head. I wince but the mental anguish has nothing on the total humiliation I’m experiencing as my memory begins to creep in through the shards of pain. We were at the party, I got drunk, I threw up all over. I glance down at myself where a blanket is thrown over my lap, there’s a glass of water sitting on the coffee table next to me along with a bowl on the floor and a cup of tea that’s still steaming.
Maxon…
Maxon had taken care of me last night, he’d held my hair while I threw up into the toilet and I vaguely remember him carrying me once…
Or twice.
I glance around the living room, looking for him but all I find is another blanket that’s been dumped a few cushions down from me, a pillow propped up against the armrest like he’d spent the night out here along with me. Something balloons inside my chest, crowding my heart and making it hard to breathe. I rub at it to ease the ache but the act does nothing, I know this feeling, and it isn’t one that I want to be experiencing.
“Heartburn is pretty normal with a hangover.” Maxon’s voice startles me as he steps from the hallway to the bedrooms. Ugh, and the man has the nerve to look good. My heart rate picks up at seeing him in his casual clothes, a plain t-shirt and jeans. As if the suits and ties he typically wears aren’t already enough to make a girl’s mouth water, he looks equally as good dressed like this.
It’s just not fair.
“I wouldn’t know.” I say, removing my hand from my chest and the ache that was definitely not heartburn, and instead rest it against my head, catching against my hair that I didn’t remember putting into a braid. “Two drinks were not worth this…” I groan and he has the audacity to laugh.
What’s worse, that sound didn’t hurt my head at all.
“Here, take this.” He holds out a few small painkillers and I take them greedily with a big sip of water, which I actually end up downing entirely.
“Thanks.” I say and he shrugs as if this was something he absolutely signed up for when he invited me to stay with him.
“Anytime Pages.” He says before stepping towards the kitchen. “I’ve already got the bacon and sausage going in the oven. Just have to make the eggs and toast the bagels.”
I perk up, watching him curiously. “You still made breakfast?”
He nods, pulling a coffee cup from the cupboard and begins pouring a cup. “You planned it and bought the food. Cooking was the least I could do.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “I feel like you’re trying to butter me up.” I say, and he shoots me a wicked smile that sparks the butterflies to life all over again.
“Is it working?” He says with a flirty tone, and I’m having déjà vu from the morning before.
I roll my eyes at him but can’t help the fluttering feeling in my chest. Dang those butterflies… I stand, staving off a wave of nausea before stepping towards the kitchen just as Max sets the cup of coffee in front of me.
“You still take it with cream and an unholy amount of sugar?” He asks, already turning and opening the fridge.
I bite back a smile. “Yeah, I suppose you can say that.”
He nods, setting a carton of cream in front of me before pulling a little dish with sugar from the cupboard and setting it on the counter.
I stare at him as he moves around the kitchen, graceful, almost to a fault, as he pulls the eggs from the fridge and begins to crack them into a bowl. “So, what’s the plan for today?” He asks, glancing up to me and I groan as I rub my face.
“Is dying an option?” I pour a hefty amount of cream into my coffee.
He laughs. “It’ll feel better as soon as you get some food into you. You kind of emptied everything out of your system last night.”
“Doesn’t that mean that I shouldn’t be hungover?”
He shrugs. “Everyone responds differently.”
I start scooping sugar into my cup and am vaguely aware that he’s watching as I pour teaspoon after teaspoon of sugar into my coffee. “I’m really sorry about getting so sick. You didn’t have to help me like you did.”
He cuts a glance to me, his dark set eyes catching me off guard with the seriousness that rests within them. “Do you remember the car ride home?”
I shake my head. “Not really, I kind of remember getting to the cars… did you have to carry me?”
He chuckles, the look in his eyes dissipating. “Yeah. To the car and to the couch. I braided your hair too in case you got sick in the night again.”
The aching in my chest returns and this time I know exactly what it is. I trail my hand down the haphazard braid that’s messy state now makes complete sense, he probably had to do it while I was laying down or hunched over the toilet again. “Thank you…” I say softly.
“Paige, you’re always making sure everyone else is taken care of. That everything goes smooth for other people. That they don’t have anything to worry about. It’s about time someone does that for you.”
I stare at him, my mouth hanging half open, words completely failing to formulate in my mind as I stare at him and he continues cracking eggs.
Did he just imply he wanted to take care of me?
He did before, at some point in our teens Maxon became a rock for me to stabilize myself against, this immovable force that I knew I could rely on without even having to ask. He was always just there. I force the thought away, that was a long time ago, we are different people now than when we were kids. We’ve grown up. We’ve changed.
Right?
Before I can figure out some kind of response to his statement, the front door opens and Devon steps in with a wide smile and an even larger box of donuts. “I didn’t know if breakfast was still on so I brought carbs.”