Consolation Prize (Forbidden Men 9)

But the weird thing was, I wasn’t that girl. I wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t say that, wouldn’t drink that. Some idiot must’ve taken control of my body, messed up my entire evening, and then returned me back to myself this morning. That’s all there was to it. Because I certainly had never gone to a wedding I didn’t even want to attend before, gotten drunk there, or made out with the best man who just so happened to be the brother of the very guy I’d kind of wanted to have a chance with.

Nope. Not me.

Denial set clearly in place, I pushed the pillow off my face and winced as the blinding sunlight burned my hangover.

“Not cool, not cool,” I chanted to the sun as I slid out of bed and tiptoed to my closet.

After gathering the first set of clothes to reach my fingers, I tiptoed to the door—no idea why I was tiptoeing—then I eased open the handle and peered cautiously into the hall. I so wasn’t ready to share any of my evening with either of my roommates.

When I saw the coast was clear, and I didn’t hear any stirring, I darted into the hall and hauled ass to the bathroom.

Once I was locked inside, I pressed my back against the wall, closed my eyes and blew out a breath.

Then I muttered, “I am so freaking weird,” to myself as I ripped my night scarf off my head.

Resigned to that fact, I took a bath.

It was actually my scheduled day to wash my hair, but I didn’t feel like going through the whole lengthy process, so I skipped that part and climbed back out of the tub a couple minutes later to towel myself dry and scurry into the clothes I’d grabbed, which happened to be a pair of shorts with the word Angel on the butt and a thin, gray ESU T-shirt. I wanted to bypass makeup altogether, but that was unheard of for me, so I dabbed it on quickly and pulled open the door with nothing but coffee on my mind.

It was easier to think about what I needed to do next, instead of last night.

Use bathroom.

Clean myself

Dress myself.

Find coffee.

See: Simple. Easy. Guilt-free.

I was already trying to decide what to force myself to do after getting the coffee when I entered the kitchen.

“Damn, girl,” a male voice immediately said, making me jump and skid to a stop. “You look rode hard and put away wet.”

I paused to glare over at my roommate Tyla’s boyfriend at the table and muttered, “Fuck off.”

Hey, some days you had to get out the broom, hat, and big black cat and remind everyone who they were dealing with. This was one of those days.

Theo lifted his hands, letting me know he was backing off. Ignoring him and the other three occupants of the table who were scolding him for his jackass comment, I went straight to the coffeepot and poured myself a cup.

A throat cleared and my second roommate, Sasha, hesitantly asked, “So…how’d the wedding go?”

Beside her, her man, Chad, snickered and I heard flesh slap against flesh as she whacked his leg under the table.

After focusing all my attention on the stream of coffee trickling into my mug, I finally glanced over to send my two roommates and their boyfriends a tight smile. “It went fine.”

“He married her then?” Tyla pressed, sending me the most sympathetic puppy dog eyes ever.

I ground my teeth, wishing I’d never told Sasha and Tyla about that stupid crush I’d formed on Brandt, or that I’d be attending his wedding. Another stupid thing the stupid person who liked to invade my body must’ve done while I was out of commission.

“Of course he married her,” I said, frowning as if she were crazy. “Why wouldn’t he marry her?”

“Well, shit.” Chad snorted. “I thought you were going to stand up in the middle of the ceremony the moment the priest said ‘if anyone here knows why these two should not be married—’”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. That didn’t happen. He married her, and honestly, I wish them both all the happiness in the world.”

I didn’t even feel a smidgeon of bitterness when I said that either. Hmm, strange. I really did hope Brandt was happy with Sarah, which was another telling sign that I hadn’t been as far gone for him as I’d always suspected. I mean, seriously, wouldn’t it hurt more to know he was on his honeymoon this very second, doing—