“Can’t,” I groan.
“You done puking?” Rafael asks, shutting the toilet lid. He presses down the handle to flush it.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I turn over so that my whole body is pressed against the nice, cool floor. “Can’t skip class.”
“Yes, you can,” he replies.
I shake my head. “Isn’t there something I can take for this?”
He sighs and tugs on my arm. “I’ll go get you something, but not until you sit up, at least.”
Laboriously, and with a lot of resentful groaning, I allow Rafael to pull me into a sitting position. He lifts the lid of the toilet for me before heading out of our bathroom. I hear the dorm room’s main door open and close.
I take the opportunity to look around. Past the partly open bathroom door, I can see a little bit of our room, which is littered with several hoodies and jackets that I must have shed on my way to the bathroom. I look down. I’m not wearing pants or shoes. I am, however, still wearing my T-shirt, and the bandages I usually wear to hide the vaguely breast-shaped lumps on my chest.
At least drunk me didn’t feel compelled to take those off. What happened last night?
I lean my head back and squeeze my eyes shut. As soon as I do, images swim fuzzily to mind.
Laughing faces. A chugging contest. Beck slamming back three beers while Heath struggles with just one.
Jasper laughs, banging his fist on the table.
I can’t chug, I know that at least. I take a couple sips and spit my beer all over the table. They think this is hilarious.
Suddenly, it’s dark. The sound of snow crunching beneath feet. A hand on my back, between my shoulder blades, drifting down to the small of my back. Vague whispers in my ear. A warm feeling in my stomach.
My eyes snap open. Oh, shit.
That is not a memory I expected to surface. Is it even a memory? I’m still so drunk, I can’t tell.
But I can feel it still, this lingering sensation of a hand on my back—of hot breath on the back of my neck.
An involuntary shiver runs down my spine.
Did I do something with one of the guys? Which one? Beck? Heath? Definitely not Jasper; I sort of remember him avoiding me most of the night. That’s the one thing I still feel sure of.
But the other two … there were moments …
I know for sure, back at the bridge at least Beck and I definitely had some sort of connection, but is he even gay? Bi, maybe?
One hand flutters up to finger the edge of the bindings still wrapped tightly around my chest.
Or, more likely, did I reveal myself in other ways?
Did one of them discover that I’m actually a girl?
I pull my bare knees up to my chest and hug them. My head pounds. My stomach turns, but it’s empty, so there’s nothing left for me to vomit up. If something did happen between me and one of the guys, would I regret it?
I hear the door open again, and Rafael appears in the bathroom doorway holding a bottle of pink liquid.
“Got you some meds,” he says nonchalantly. “Good to see you’re still sitting up.”
“I didn’t throw up,” I croak. My voice is so hoarse.
“You might not even need to smoke today.” He sets the medicine on the counter and goes about pouring out the proper dose. “I’d rather you stayed in bed, or even went to the infirmary.”
“I can’t miss days. I need to keep my grades up. My scholarship.”