“Fuck,” I mutter, staring at the towel she must have rolled out of while we slept; now it’s just draped across her bare hip.
I’d like to let her sleep, but I need to wake her up. I’ll have to feed her and have a talk with her before I take her home, apologize for whatever I did last night and come up with a more effective way to keep myself away from her, I guess.
I can’t believe I have to send her away again. This is just mean. No more fucking whiskey for me, not until I’m well past this girl and I can trust myself to have lowered inhibitions again.
Since there’s little point stalling, I move my arm and gently shake her awake. Her big, blue-green eyes open up, a little bleary at first, then they brighten at the sight of me and she curls even closer.
“Good morning, handsome.”
Aw, shit. I stifle a sigh and offer a slight smile. “Morning.”
Tilting her head back to look up at me as she absently rubs her soft hand across the tight muscles of my abdomen, she asks, “How’d you sleep?”
“Like a log, it would seem.” Nodding at the bath towel, I ask her, “Why’s that there?”
She turns her head to look and then laughs a little. “Oh, I guess I fell asleep in my towel after our shower.”
Our shower? “We showered together,” I say flatly, like that’s a thing I remember doing. I must look skeptical, though, because she responds to it like a question anyway.
Frowning slightly, she nods. “After you took my ass and we talked in bed, we took a shower before we went to sleep.” Her frown deepens, then I see alarm starting to blossom. “Do you… not remember?”
“No, I—I remember.”
I search my hollow memory for what she’s telling me happened last night. I believe her, I just don’t know why I can’t recall any of it. I’ve only blacked out once in all my years, but right now I’m searching for missing memories of last night and I can’t find them.
I took her ass? What did we talk about in bed? We showered afterward? What the fuck happened last night?
I search my memory and remember driving when I left the bar. I remember now, pulling into Alyssa’s driveway and looking at the damned screen door hanging off her house, but I don’t remember a thing after that.
Of fucking course I can’t remember the good parts.
Made myself a big fucking mess and don’t even get to enjoy memories of it.
When I look at Alyssa, she’s still frowning, clearly not convinced. “You remember?”
“Well, I don’t remember the shower,” I offer, flicking a glance at the towel.
“It was a nice shower,” she tells me kinda softly, like she’s bummed I don’t remember it.
“I’m sure it was.” I reach out and caress her face. “I’m sorry, I remember some of last night, but I have some missing pieces, too.”
“Of course you do,” she murmurs, sounding so damn disappointed.
I’m so pissed at myself for allowing this to happen.
“I’m sorry, Alyssa. I never drink that much, I don’t…” Looking her over, I ask, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Alyssa shakes her head, then looks up at me again, but there’s no more sparkle in her eyes. “What do you remember?”
“I remember I came to your house, but I don’t remember coming inside.”
“Do you remember kissing me?”
I don’t, and I feel too bad claiming a memory like that if I wasn’t entirely there for it. She sees the answer on my face without my even having to say it, so I don’t bother verifying. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you remember having sex with me at all?”
I grimace and shake my head no.
“And I’m sure you remember none of the stuff we talked about in bed afterward,” she states, sounding morose and a little annoyed.
“I didn’t realize I had that much to drink,” I tell her. “Maybe if you tell me what was said, it’ll jog my memory.”
Shaking her head, still seething with annoyance, she whips back the little bit of sheet covering her legs and grabs the towel as she rolls off her side of the bed, then throws it on the floor. “You blocked out every bit of time you spent with me last night. Every bit of it.”
She’s right, I did. It’s not like I did it on purpose, though.
“Hey, come here,” I say, sitting up a little as she storms toward my bathroom.
“Why?” she demands. “I need to get dressed so you can take me home.”
I know I don’t exactly have the upper hand here, but like I do, I point down firmly on my side of the bed. “Get your pretty little ass over here.”
She glares at me but stops moving toward the bathroom and walks over to where I summoned her, anyway. “What?”