Chapter 3
Lydia
I WAKE UP the next morning with a pounding headache and the fleeting feeling that I’ve done something I shouldn’t have done. My eyes land on the mini-fridge across the room and bits and pieces of the night before start falling into place. I definitely drank some alcohol from that fridge. I grimace, imagining the bill for this and lamenting the poor choice I made of drinking more than one alcoholic beverage, especially after I’d eaten next to nothing due to the fact that my supply of Pastry Treats had run out, and airport food is overpriced. I’d really been planning on going to town on some inflight pretzels.
Other hazy details are clicking into place now .
How Cole offered to get us rooms at the airport Holiday Inn. How we arrived to find out that, like something out of a romance novel, they only had one room left. My impulsive decision to move forward with my plan anyway, figuring that after I shut him down, he’d probably storm off to the lobby… or at least go sleep in the bathtub. Coming up to the room. Cole suggesting we have a drink. Ha! His idea, so I’ll definitely stick him with that bill then.
My triumph is short-lived as I remember what happened next. My confidence inflated by alcohol, I’d made my move. I’m not proud of this next part. Declaring that I had to rinse the mustard stain off before it set, I promptly ripped my shirt off. I had a tank top underneath, but still…The memory makes me cringe. It must’ve worked though, because I remember Cole saying we should get to bed shortly after. Though he may have meant that literally, since a few minutes later we climbed into the room’s only bed, and he shut the light off, rolling over so his back was to me.
I squeeze my eyes shut as what happened next plays out in my head. Out of sheer desperation I did a very, very stupid thing. Announcing that I couldn’t sleep in my too tight skirt, I slid the offending item off. Cole rolled back over with a groan and said, “Lyddie, what’re you doing to me?” The effect those words had on my body scared me. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, like fire swooping through me and lighting up every one of my nerve endings. So, I called it. I forced a laugh to hide my hammering heart, then, with a tremulous glance up and down his body (yet another mistake), uttered the magic words, “Yeah...no.” It was my great moment of triumph. At least until Cole laughed.
“Yeah, no?” he said. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He didn’t even remember! Anger replaced desire, and I punched him in the shoulder, at which point I will admit desire flashed back up just for an instant because, hellllooo deltoid.
“You jerk! I was making a point, and you ruined it.”
“Making a point?” Understanding suddenly cleared away the confusion on his face. “You mean this is about earlier, at the airport? When I said I wasn’t trying to seduce you, and you said I wouldn’t have a chance even if I did try?” He stared at me incredulously, and I realized I had a choice. I could let him in on the embarrassing fact that he ruined my life back in eighth grade, and I’ve never gotten over it, or I could play it off like, yes, my whole song and dance was about what happened at the airport. I chose the latter. To my detriment.
As soon as I said the words, “That’s right. I guess you lose,” something flashed across his eyes.
The rest of the night is catching up to me fast and nausea clutches at my stomach as I sit straight up. Oh no. There he is, still in bed next to me. He didn’t disappear to sleep in the bathtub. Nope. There he is. Fast asleep. Shirtless. I rip my eyes away and let out a moan of horror.
“Morning,” his voice pulls me back to him, and he smiles cockily at me. “I guess I win,” he says, and I burst into tears.