“Give me a sec.” We made our way upstairs, and I led her into my bedroom. I flipped a switch in the attached bathroom so we could see without being blinded by the overhead light. Any of my bottoms would probably fall right off her tiny waist, so a T-shirt was all I had to offer.
Pulling open the top drawer, I grabbed a well-worn red Falcons tee and handed it to her. Sure, I had other shirts. But giving her this felt like a taste of retribution against that dick Morrison.
“Here,” I said. “You can change in the bathroom. Washcloths are under the sink if you need one. And mouthwash.”
Bailey froze on the spot, staring at the bed. She turned to face me, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. “Are you going to sleep in the bed too?”
She looked awfully scandalized for someone who’d asked if she could sit on my face twenty minutes ago.
“Well, yeah. The other bedrooms belong to Dallas—who’s probably in there with Shiv—and Tyler. And, for reasons I won’t get into, I wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole. And I don’t fit on our couch.” I gestured to myself with one hand, waving an open palm from my head down, as if to illustrate my height. “But you can sleep there if you want. I’ll warn you, though, it’s not comfortable.”
Dallas’s stupid modern square-shaped sectional looked cool, but it had these weird immovable armrests and was about as comfortable as a bag of rocks. My ass always ached after playing video games on that thing.
“I don’t know…” Bailey chewed her bottom lip. Her gaze darted between the bed and me like she was performing some kind of mental risk calculation.
“I can assure you; I’m not going to try anything.”
“Okay.” She yawned, rubbing her eyes. “I trust you. I don’t know why, but I do.”
“I’ll go grab you a water.”
By the time I returned from the kitchen, glass of water in hand, she had changed into my shirt and was on top of the covers, passed out cold diagonally. Snoring.
OceanofPDF.com
BAILEY
Light flooded through the gaps in the curtains, growing progressively brighter. I was thirsty beyond belief. Every muscle in my body was sore, as if I’d just run a marathon. And my head pounded like someone was beating me with a hockey stick.
I groaned and pulled the covers over my head, trying to block out the light—and reality. If I could get back to sleep, maybe I’d wake up later and realize all of this had been a bad dream. What time was it, anyway? I cracked one eye open to discover I was hiding beneath a dark gray duvet, not white like mine…and it smelled like cologne.
Really delicious cologne.
Where the hell was I?
Pieces of last night came back to me slowly. Luke blowing me off at the game, hitting the club with Zara and Noelle, running into Chase Carter…Oh my god—Carter. I threw off the covers and let out a gasp. I was wearing a crimson Falcons T-shirt.
The uniform of the enemy.
I squeezed my eyes shut, slowly counting to five. Maybe I was hallucinating from all the stress. I opened one eye and peeked at my surroundings. Sadly, I was still in the same place: Chase Carter’s bedroom. No, not his bedroom. His sex dungeon.
Fine, it didn’t look like a sex dungeon, not that I’d know what one looked like. The walls were a crisp, clean white, and the soft cotton sheets and comforter were charcoal gray. There was a small flatscreen TV mounted on the wall, a glass computer desk with a laptop, and an acoustic guitar leaning in the corner. All in all, it was clean and minimalist. It didn’t scream fraternity guy like I’d expected. Actually, it was nicer than Luke’s bedroom.
But I wasn’t the first girl, nor would I be the last, to wake up here. I was probably customer number 238, with a line around the block to take my place. Take a ticket and get in line, ladies.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Chase appeared in the doorway and leaned against the frame, clutching a black mug in his hands. He was freshly showered and wearing fitted gray joggers and a white V-neck T-shirt, with his dark hair still damp. And damn, did he look hot—like an athletic wear model or something equally appealing.
I didn’t want to know what I looked like. I knew it wasn’t good. Or appealing.
He nodded at my shirt. “Red suits you.”
I pulled myself upright, yanking the covers up to my chin. I was in a T-shirt and underwear. His T-shirt wasn’t that long on me, either. No pants. Not even shorts. Did that mean we had sex? Oh, no. No, no, no.
Nausea roiled through me, and not from the hangover.
“Did we…？” I asked, too embarrassed to finish my sentence. He shook his head. “No.”
I eyed him warily, hyperaware of my bare bottom half beneath the blanket. Did he sleep next to me under the covers last night? Did his butt graze my butt? Did I snore? Oh my god.
“I don’t take advantage of drunk girls.” Chase pushed off from the doorframe and took a few long strides over to stand at the foot of the bed.
My breath stilled, heart accelerating. Somehow, I felt extra-undressed with him so close to me.
“Though in this case,” he added, “I think it was you who tried to take advantage of me, James.”
“You know my last name?”
“Of course,” he said. “You tried to get in my pants.”
“I did what?” I frowned, mentally replaying last night’s events. The beginning of the evening was fairly clear, but then it got increasingly blurry. Either way, I didn’t do that. “No, you’re the one who was hitting on me with all your lame airport innuendos.”
“That was before you got blackout drunk. You came back later and found me. Cockblocked me in the process, I might add.” He raised a brow pointedly. “Then you wanted to go home, but it wasn’t safe to let you leave alone in the state you were in, so I brought you back here. Nothing happened.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you sure?”
“We didn’t have sex. We didn’t even kiss.”
“Thanks…I guess.” I grumbled. Chase Carter, perfect gentleman? Who knew?
“Oh, don’t thank me.” His lips quirked. “You made for fascinating conversation on the walk home.”
My stomach leapt into my throat. “What did I say?” I didn’t drink often, and for good reason. When I was under the influence, I tended to blab to anyone who would listen. My life story, my innermost secrets, it was all up for grabs. It didn’t take much to get to that point, either, because I was a total lightweight.
“You’ve got quite the mouth on you. Made some very explicit requests.” Chase smirked and took a sip of his coffee before he continued. “Sounds like Morrison wasn’t exactly keeping up his end of the bargain in the bedroom.”
I wanted to crawl back under the covers. Or maybe die. Dying sounded pretty good right now.
“But no, I didn’t take you up on your many colorful offers. It might have been tempting, if not for the fact that you could barely walk straight. And you threw up on my shoes.”
I cringed. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay to replace them.”
“Don’t worry about it. I think I got most of it off.” He nodded to the foot of the bed, where my skirt and tank top lay neatly folded. “And your clothes are there. I washed them.”