9
“Hey.” Audrey tugs on my arm, her brow creasing with worry. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lie, flashing her a fake smile. I can’t tell her now as I’m liable to burst into tears, and I refuse to cry at my party or give the salacious crowd any ammunition for gossip. “I need more vodka. I’m way too sober right now.” Nothing sobers a person like emotional anguish. I need to numb the pain and silent my screaming mind.
Two hours later, I’ve accomplished my mission, and I can barely stand up straight as we dance to the intoxicating beats the DJ is playing. “You need water,” Audrey says, when I stumble into her. The room spins as she grabs me and leads us off the dance floor.
“He’s probably fucking her right now,” I slur, swiping at the tears leaking from my eyes.
“You need to tell me what’s going on,” she says, guiding me toward our table.
“That fucking bitch picked my lingerie.” Anger rips through me as my brain latches on to another thought. “I bet she chose my purse and makeup too.”
“Hold up here a sec.” Audrey stops walking, turning around so she’s facing me. “Are you telling me Reeve gotSaffron Robertsto buy your birthday gifts?”
I nod, and tears prick my eyes again. God, I’m such a basket case, and I need to get myself together.
“Oh, babe.” Her expression floods with sympathy. “I get why you’re pissed. I would be too. But I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything other than he’s a thoughtless moron.”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” I whisper. “It hurts too much.” I stumble as nausea swirls in my gut, bending over while I clutch my stomach. “I don’t feel so hot.”
“Let’s get some water into you.” She helps me into a chair, scowling at the almost empty table. Her eyes scan the heaving dance floor, looking for Alex, no doubt. “You.” She jabs her finger in Nate’s direction. He’s slumped over the table across from me, and I’m betting he feels about as good as I feel.
“Go away, Rey,” he mumbles, giving her his middle finger.
“Watch our birthday girl while I’m at the bar. I’ll grab you a bottle of water too,” she adds before pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Stay put. I’ll get some water and some food. I’ll be right back.”
I nod before closing my eyes. Everything swims, and nausea twists in my gut, so I whip my eyes open, blinking excessively to clear the spiraling dizziness from my head, and try to focus my blurry vision.
Warmth ghosts over my skin as a body presses against my thigh and an arm encircles my shoulders. “It’s okay, babe,” Nate slurs. “I’ll look after you.”
I’d snort if I wasn’t so drunk. “I don’t need anyone to look after me. I can look after myself,” I lie, struggling to keep my eyes open. The room is out of focus—the mass of bodies dancing and making out on the dance floor is a mess of wriggly shapeless forms.
“You look sad,” Nate slurs. “Why d’you look sad? No one should be sad on their birthday.”
I’m barely aware as my face is tilted around. Nate’s features are fuzzy as he stares at me. Wet lips glide against mine, and for a few seconds, I’m confused until I realize Nate fucking McAndrews is kissing me. I swat at his chest, feebly pushing him away. “Get off me!”
“What the actual fuck?” Audrey shouts, depositing stuff on the table before yanking Nate away from me. He falls to the sticky wooden floor, cussing like a sailor. “You need to crawl the fuck away like the slithery snake you are before I stomp all over your manhood with my Jimmy Choos,” Audrey threatens, looming over him.
Pain darts through my skull, and I wince, cradling my head in my hands. Nausea swims up my throat, and I gag. “Audrey,” I moan. “I’m gonna be sick.”
Ignoring the asshole on the floor, she helps me to stand, circling her arm around my back and practically dragging me out of the marquee. Alex appears, cursing when he sees the state of me. “Fuck. Reeve will have my head for this. I promised I’d look out for her.”
“Reeve can kiss my ass,” I murmur before bending over and emptying the contents of my stomach into the nearest bush. Audrey holds my hair back as I violently vomit until there’s nothing left to expel. I slump against her while pawing at my sweat-slickened overheated skin, needing to strip out of my clothes and crawl into bed until I fall into a coma. “Bed,” I mumble. “I need my bed.”
“I’ve got you,” Alex says, scooping me up into his arms. My eyes shutter, and the world turns dark.
* * *
A dull pounding in my skull rouses me from slumber the following morning, and I whimper as I turn over in the bed and my stomach twists painfully. My lips are dry, my tongue is glued to the roof of my parched mouth, and the lingering scent of puke invades my nostrils, making me gag.
“Oh God. Are you going to be sick again?” Audrey asks as the bed dips.
I force my eyes open, wincing at the bright light filtering through the open curtains. “I don’t think so,” I croak, but I really need to pee and erase this vomit taste from my mouth. Pulling myself upright in the bed takes colossal effort, and my body feels like it’s done ten rounds with Amanda Nunes in the ring. Glancing down at myself, I notice I’m in my underwear. Sight of the sexy bra and thong brings everything to the surface, and a sob rips from my mouth.
“Hey.” Audrey rubs my arm. “It’s going to be okay.”
I turn to face her with glassy eyes. “What happened? How did I get here, and why are you in my bed and not Alex’s?”