Freaking how?
“Unfortunately,” he groans, edging farther into the room and wincing at the light as I did. “Damn, that’s a lot of sun.”
I smile.
“How are you feeling?” I grab a mug out of the cabinet and pour him a coffee.
“Stupid, hungover, embarrassed. Want me to keep going?”
I chuckle. “I get the idea.”
He makes his way over. “I’m sorry. Whatever happened last night, I’m an idiot.”
Disappointment tugs at my heart.
“You don’t remember?” I hand him his coffee.
“Not a thing. It’s all a big blur.”
There goes his love declaration.
In contrast to the first time he pulled that amnesia prank on me, I actually believe him. He could barely walk last night. And the things he shared… he would’ve never told me had he been sober.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” I ask.
“I remember Alex and I sneaking into a bar. Your text.”
That damn text.
If I’d known how he would react, I would’ve never sent it.
“Then we got blackout drunk and… I’m guessing if Alex had to call you to come get my ass, I did something stupid?”
“Do you really want to know?”
He exhales. “Lay it on me.”
“You may have gotten into a fight or two.”
“And?” He knows there’s more.
“And almost gotten arrested,” I cave.
He cringes.
“Well, thanks for saving me, control freak.”
“Anytime, Willy.”
This is weird.
How he was kissing the breath out of me just last night, telling me how much he needs me, and now… I don’t have a clue as to where we stand. Is he still mad at me? Are we still on the outs?
“Nice hoodie, by the way.” He gestures.
I flush in realization.
It’s his.