I gasp, feeling like a prophet. “So you do build walls.”
Frowning faintly, he says, “Huh?”
“At the church. I thought you leaned against the wall like you built it. Never mind. I’m being crazy.”
“I’m not sure if I should take you for coffee or try to get you drunker,” he says lightly.
“I’m game for either. I’ll let you buy me a drink. You owe me like 8 million drinks.”
“I’ll tell you what,” he says. “I’ll drive us toward a bar, and if you’re still awake when we get there, we’ll go in and I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I tell him, nodding my head.
Chapter Seven
As I float out of the most pleasant sex dream I have had in a long time, I become aware of a painful pounding in my head. Like an explosion that won’t stop, hurting so much that it makes my stomach hurt, and those aren’t even remotely related things.
I start to pry my eyes open, but oh, God, it hurts. My stomach rocks. I reach down to place a steadying hand over it, and my hand lands on a soft, white down blanket that is tangled around my body.
Wait. I don’t own a white down blanket.
My eyes shoot open and I see a window with sun shining through, but it is not my window. A pillow next to mine looks slept on… but it is not my pillow.
Horror blossoms and I look down, lifting the blanket wrapped around my chest, and sure enough, I am naked beneath this blanket.
Oh, my God. What have I done? And who did I do it with? Oh, please say I’m at Henry’s house. I know I can’t be at Henry’s house, because Henry doesn’t have a house, he has an apartment, and I can tell looking out the window and seeing a house next door that this is a house.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh my God.
I haven’t experienced this horror in a long-ass time, but wouldn’t you know, last time I did, the same asshole was involved. I’m trying to remember last night, but this time, it really is fuzzy. I’m older than I was back then; if I slept with Derek last night, I legitimately do not remember it.
This cannot be happening to me again.
I’m going to stab him.
Throwing back the blanket, I go to sit up and I’m punished with a thunderbolt of pain striking me right in the temple. I close my eyes and grab my head, making a mental note to move gently. Am I hung over? I might be hung over. I forgot what this felt like, but wow, it is bad.
&n
bsp; Derek’s white dress shirt is draped across the dresser, so I grab it and slip it on. Somewhere in my mind there must be a memory of me taking it off him, but I can’t find it.
My mouth is so dry. I managed to get off the bed without dying, but I am not about to look around for my dress. God, I hope I went home with Derek. I mean, I’ll kill him, but he’s the last person I remember going off with, so if not Derek, I have no idea what I did last night.
I button up his shirt, open the bedroom door, and make my way slowly down the hall. The television must be on in the living room. It sounds so loud. My stomach is rocking, and my head won’t stop exploding over and over again, punishing me for my loss of control. I get it, body, you’re pissed. Message received.
I don’t feel any signs of soreness between my legs though. If Derek fucked me, I can’t imagine it would have been gentle.
I gasp, nearly jumping out of my skin at the sight of a child sitting on the couch in the living room. A pajama-clad little girl with long dark hair sits in the middle of the sofa, one arm slung around a white unicorn with a pink, glittery horn, the other hand absently popping colorful cereal into her mouth.
She looks up at me, but doesn’t look nearly as stunned by my presence as I am by hers. “Good morning, Mom,” she says casually.
My eyes pop open so wide, I think they’ll tumble forth from their sockets.
What the hell did she just say to me?
My mouth hangs open and I look around for an adult. Or a fairy godmother. Someone who can explain what this small child just said to me.
I clear my throat, trying not to look horrified. “Wh—what?”