“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I’m waiting for my cab.”
“Why don’t you wait inside? You’re gonna freeze out there.”
“Oh,nowTexas is freezing, hm?” she said as she slipped through the front door. “Good night, Dane.”
He peeked out the window. Austen stood at the end of his driveway, arms folded as she shivered in her damp clothes.
Yep, she hates me,he thought. And he was surprised by how much that disappointed him.
Chapter 25
Austen
Austen woke in her bed on Saturday with a throbbing headache.
“Owwww,” she groaned sleepily.
Why do I feel like this?she asked herself, before her mind’s eye was flooded with snapshots from last night.
DeHardt’s mansion. His pool. Two bottles of wine. She’d gotten drunk enough she’d done astripteasefor him, ugh! If only the embarrassment ended there. But no, she’d sucked his dick in that pool, like countless other girls surely had. She even let him shoot his precious brain matter—his jizz, that is—down her throat. Where had her dignity gone?
Thank God that guy refused to give oral. Because not doing that onesimplefavor probably saved her from the colossal mistake of fucking the hockey player on his living room couch.
She shook her head.
It was crazy how fast she could lose control in the presence of a hot guy like him. She liked to think she was so smart and so in control, but clearly, she didn’t know herself nearly as well as she thought. She’d only gone to his house to apologize for Thayer’s shitty interview—not to suck and fuck him to buy his forgiveness. The realization that she couldn’t even trust herself was downright scary.
What’s wrong with me anyway?
She glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand. It read 1:07 PM. She bolted upright.
Great. I slept half the day away already.
She tossed the down comforter off of her body, but found that the air in her studio apartment was simplyfartoo cold to be endured. She shivered, a deep chill in her bones, and quickly scrambled back under the comforter.
I’m freezing,she thought as she wrapped the heavy comforter around her shoulders and trudged out of bed.
Austen never saw Bad Cat, who was lying in wait under the bed. As soon as she stepped out of the bed, he darted between Austen’s feet, causing her to trip and fall face-first onto the carpet.
“Ow! Bad Cat!” she cried.
Bad Cat stamped all around her fallen body, proudly purring and loudly meowing as he surveyed the scene of his destruction.
He wasn’t given that name for nothing.
“Why are all the men in my life so crazy?” she moaned as she picked herself off the floor.
She popped an aspirin and drank a tall glass of water. She was positive her hangover would subside as the day wore on, like it always did.
***
Hours later, Austen wasn’t feeling any better. Her headache had intensified, she had developed a case of the sniffles, and she couldn’t warm up no matter how many layers she wore or blankets she wrapped herself up in.
As her symptoms worsened, Austen bundled up with a hot water bottle and sprawled out on her couch. Slowly, it dawned on her that this wasn’tjusta mere hangover. DeHardt had been right. She caught a cold on the way home in those damp clothes.
Damn it,she thought, shaking a clenched fist in the air.
