Cautiously, I open my eye again, and this time, force the other eye open. Blinking several times, my father finallycomes into focus. Standing at the foot of the bed in a black tracksuit, his hands are on his hips, his face scrunched up in displeasure.
What happened last night?I want to ask, but I’m afraid he may not know that anything happened, and I don’t want to give myself away.
“I’m sorry,” I say, putting out feelers. “I stayed out too late, I was having too much fun. I’m just so tired.”
He narrows his eyes, his internal lie detector being put to the test. A memory flashes behind my eyes, one of Brooke and I shopping, then a flash of flames as the bonfire comes back to me. Reed.Oh my god. I had sex last night. I lost my virginity on the beach.
I swallow thickly as my dad surveys me, his stare making me anxious. I push myself up in the bed, back against the headboard, trying my hardest to act tired, not hungover.
I’m lying to my dad this morning, and I lied to him last night. I hate it, but when a memory hits of Reed kissing me between my legs, I know the lies were worth it. Last night was life changing.
“Who gave you a ride home? Hmm? Did you know Maribel waited up for your call only to discover you in your bed at 2 o’clock in the morning? She extended her trust to you, and you broke it.” His nostrils flare, and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen my dad really angry with me.
Tears well in my eyes. As much fun as I had last night, I don’t want to upset him.
“Brooke,” I lie, or at least, I think I’m lying. The awful truth is, I don’t remember how I got home. “She gave me a ride. It was almost midnight, I didn’t want to wake you guys.”I sit with the lie, waiting for him to shake the sieve and reveal what really happened.
A beat passes, and his features soften. “It’s… okay. Just, don’t set a precedent, okay?” He sits on the edge of the bed and grabs my foot over the covers. “Your furniture is coming today, so we’ll get your room set up. And it looks like you got some school clothes with Brooke,” he says, nodding to the pile of brightly colored shopping bags on the floor. “C’mon, get dressed. Come down for breakfast.” He smiles, drifting toward the door, but stopping one more time. “Harrison is home. You can meet him over breakfast.”
I curl my lip. “Harrison?” My head throbs from the vodka and beer.
My father’s face flashes impatience. “Maribel’s son.” He softens again, smiling. “See you downstairs.”
The water is hot,but the shower is a waste. I wash hastily, but the entire time, when I should be figuring out my story and trying hard to remember how I got home, I keep thinking about last night.
About Reed.
Reaching between my legs, I find myself sore to touch.It was real. Nothing was a dream. I really made love to a handsome man last night. One that said he’d remember that night forever, the same way I would.
I didn’t get his phone number, or at least I don’t think I did. And I don’t even know his last name. I get out of the shower, a towel wrapped around my head, another around my torso, and snatch my phone from the nightstand.
Quickly, I shoot Brooke a text, desperate for clarification, even if I embarrass myself.
How did I get home last night?
good morning to you, too
Reed
you don’t remember?
Did he walk me in? I woke up in my dad’s fiancé’s house, in the guest room. I don’t remember much.
I don’t know, girl. I wasn’t there. I just know he drove you home since you got pretty wasted. Then he texted me and told me you were home.
My dad knocks on the door. “Maribel just took the scones out. Are you ready to come down?”
“Uh, yeah, just got out of the shower. Getting dressed now.” Quickly I flip open the suitcase on the floor, grabbing a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. After dressing, I run a comb through my hair, twisting it into a bun. A quick brush of my teeth–which nearly makes me hurl–I leave my phone on the bed with an unread message from Brooke, and head downstairs.
I owe Maribel an apology for not calling her and scaring her, and I owe my dad another apology because this was not the first impression I meant to make. She probably thinks I’m a brat trying to rebel against this move but that’s not what it is.
But since I can’t tell them that I saw the opportunity to finally have sex and took it, apologies are all I can give.And I will give them. I will enter that kitchen with the best smile and the best behavior I’ve had in my entire life.
And I’ll stop lying.
Definitely.
I take the stairs one by one, the world still a little spinny around me as I crawl toward sobriety. As I make it to the hall, the smell of fresh pastries and strong brewed coffee hits my nose, making my stomach roll. I hadn’t considered how hard it would be to fake not being hungover at breakfast. Maybe I’ll just talk so much no one will notice I don’t eat.
