CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
HOLLY
“Holly!”
Myeyelids struggled to flicker open at the sound of Liz’s voice bellowing throughthe house, followed by the giddy banter that could only come from Anna. I groanedas an ache came from somewhere deep inside my skull, leaving me disoriented tothe point of not knowing where I was. I mean, the cat was there, coiled betweenmy legs as usual, and I recognized the feeling of my lumpy bed beneath me, andthere was certainly no mistaking the sound of Liz’s currently overpoweringvoice; the sound ricocheted through my head like a bullet in a room made ofplexiglass.
Butnone of that accounted for the man snoring softly above my ear with a pool ofwhat I assumed to be my dried drool collected in the middle of his t-shirt. Hisarm was wrapped comfortably around my shoulders while his head rested againstthe top of mine, laying there as though this were the most natural position forus to find ourselves in.
Whatthe hell did I do last night? Did I have sex? Was it good?
Thewave of nausea rolled over me like a bulldozer as I brought a hand up to covermy eyes, shielding them from the sunlight that streamed through the open blindsof my room.
“Oh,my God,” I groaned with a mouth full of cotton. My voice didn’t sound like itbelonged to me; it was husky and hushed without even trying.
“Holly!Are you in here?” Liz knocked on the door to my room, sending my head into afit of pain.
Theman beneath me awoke with a start at the sound of Liz’s voice and pounding.
“Holyshit,” he moaned, speaking with the voice of Brandon and in that instant, thefragmented memories of events from the night before came back to me with agroan and a smile. “I stayed here last night,” he mumbled, reminding himself ofwhere he was.
Clearly,he was as disoriented as I was.
Buthe bounced back quickly, and his hand found my hair and stroked absentmindedlyas he nuzzled his cheek into the top of my head. “How are you feeling?”
“Likehell,” I croaked, wrapping my arm around his waist, vaguely aware of howunusually comfortable it was to wake up with him. My nostrils opened to thesour smell of vomit. “Ugh, did I puke last night?”
Thatbrought a rumble of a laugh against my ear. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so. A fewtimes.” He teased the ends of the ponytail I could only assume looked like aBrillopad. “You owe me a new shirt, by the way.”
Ipulled away, covering my face with my hands. “Ugh, I’m sorry.” I peeked at himthrough my fingers to find him smiling with a heavier shade of stubblepeppering his jawline. “You took care of me,” I stated, dropping my hands to mylap, squinting in the light.
“Youreally didn’t leave me with much choice,” he laughed, bringing a hand up totuck hair behind my ear. “It was either that or leave you alone, and I couldn’tlive with myself if you had gotten hurt or …” His voice trailed off as Lizknocked on the door again.
“Holly,are youalive?”
Irolled my eyes. “Yeah, I’m miraculously still a member of the living,” I calledto her through the door, wincing at the volume of my own voice.
Thedoor flew open. “Are youoka—oh, God, I’m sorry. Ididn’t realize you had, uh—” Liz stood in the doorway, stammering at the sightof Brandon. Her eyes dropped to the floor, unable to look at him as though hewere lying there unclothed.
“Youremember Brandon.” I shielded the blushing of my cheeks with my hands.
Brandonlifted a hand with a polite smile in some attempt to hide his ownembarrassment. “Hey Liz.”
“Oh,right. Guy from the bookstore. Hi.” Liz waved with an awkward smile thatunsuccessfully disguised her excitement, finally looking at him but for only amoment, and then turned her attention back at me. “Um, Holly, do you have aminute?”
ReluctantlyI slid my feet off the bed. “I’ll be right back,” I said to him, in milddisbelief that I was leaving him lying on my little bed as I walked into thehall.
Annaplayed in the living room, the clattering of her toys against the floorcrashing like thunder in my head, and I reacted by pressing my palms against mytemples. Liz’s expression had changed from one of awkward discomfort to one ofconfused astonishment as she leaned in close and began whispering withexcitement.
“Um,okay, two questions.” I nodded my reply, wincing as the world spun. “First, whyis that ridiculously hot guy in your bed? And second, does Ben know aboutthat?”
OhGod. Ben.
“Benknows nothing,” I said, massaging in little circles against my temples, prayingfor the strength to not throw up again. “I think I’ll call him today to … toend things.”
Liznodded, not seeming all that surprised by the news. “Oookay,that’s my second question. What’s up with the guy in your bed?” I told her myside of the story, what I could remember of it, and she flashed me a look ofskepticism, cocking an eyebrow. “So, you’re telling me this guy stayed over allnight with you drunk and throwing up, and he didn’t once try to make a move? Hejust took care of you?”
“That’sthe gist of it, yeah.” I wrapped my arms around my stomach, nauseated and notfrom the hangover. I dropped my voice a little lower and leaned closer to her.“Who does that?”
