“Ummmmmm….?” I question, not able to remember much of what must not have been a very good night going off of the killer headache pounding away inside my head..
“You left,” she screeches. “I was at that party searching for you all night. You left your phone with Spencer and just took off. Who the hell does that?”
My brows pull down. “Spencer?”
“For fuck’s sake,” she groans, stepping back out of the room and slamming the door behind her.
What the hell did I do last night and what does it have to do with Spencer? And what’s that awful taste in my mouth?
Before I have much time to question myself further, the door is barged open again and Tully launches my clothes across the room. “I love you,” she says. “But I’m so damn angry at you right now.”
With that, she slams the door once again, making the noise pound through my head like a sledge hammer.
Fuck. Whatever it was, it must be bad. It takes a lot to work up Tully Cage into an angry fit. I must have really fucked up.
I climb out of Noah’s bed, glad to have a moment to myself to try and figure this out. I remember going to a party with Tully. Rivers was there acting like our protection detail as usual. We were drinking and then…Oh no. Then Jackson showed up.
Shit. I skanked around with Spencer. I let him touch me in the hopes of forgetting. I hope I didn’t let it get too far.
Something buzzes and I look around the bed and find my phone, realizing this must have been what Tully had thrown at me to wake me up. I find a more than a few texts from dad.
Dad – Where are you, Squish? It’s getting late.
Dad – Henley. Where the hell are you?
Dad – Get your ass home.
Dad – You better be lying dead in a gutter somewhere, or help me God, I’m going to rain all sorts of hell down on you, girl.
Dad – Are you ok? Did something happen? Are you hurt?
Dad – Fuck Henley. Get your ass home. NOW!
Then there’s one from this morning.
Dad – Home. Now.
Shit. That was over an hour ago.
I grab my jeans from last night and draw them up my legs before grabbing my black tank. I look it over and cringe. This is gross and kind of sticky.
I look down at myself and realize I’m in one of Noah’s shirts and wonder how the hell it got on me. Actually, from memory, this is the shirt he was wearing yesterday before we left for the party.
Hmmmm…. If only I could put this puzzle together.
I slink out of Noah’s room, still wearing his shirt, and duck into the bathroom to get a good look at myself. I pee and sitting here on the toilet, I remember all the action it got last night and not only that, the way Noah tied my hair back and witnessed me at my worst.
How fucking embarrassing.
I wash my face, fix my hair, and straighten up my clothes. I guess this is as acceptable as it’s going to get. I can go home and shower, I just need to get out of here first. Hmmm, I wonder if climbing out the window is my best option?
As I walk out of the bathroom and up the hallway, I find four sets of eyes staring at me. Tully sits with her legs crossed on the couch, a perfect scowl on her face. Rivers sits beside her with an uncomfortable, awkward distance between them and an equally as pissed off scowl on his face. Noah is across the room, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, leaning forward on his knees with nothing but that broken confusion that’s been plaguing him all week.
Seeing him sparks the memory of his arms holding my body all night, keeping me tucked into his side, making sure I was safe. I swear, I’ve never felt so loved in my life. Those memories are torn away as my eyes land on Monica leaning against the entryway for the kitchen, staring at me with a strange mix of shock and pure disgust.
She storms forward into the center of the room. “What the fuck is she doing here?” she demands, staring at Noah. “And is that… is that your fucking shirt?”
Her voice is loud and pierces straight through my skull. “Fuck, Monica. Shut the hell up.”
Tully smirks at Monica being put in her place and I can’t help but feel a small victory. At least Tully wasn’t lying; she still loves me, but needs time to cool down after I decided to leave the party without so much of a goodbye. She was probably worried sick.
“Excuse me?” Monica grunts, stepping forward and placing herself right in front of me. “You don’t belong here.”