Comfort Zone (Awkward Love 4)

Eventually she pulls away, but her gaze still lingers on mine. I turn my attention to Garry, who the game has moved on to, ignoring the heat of her stare. The last thing I need is for her to know how much I enjoyed that kiss.

Or how much I want to do it again.Chapter SixBeccaI groan and attempt to lift my head off the pillow, but like everything today, it’s just too hard. I make it about an inch before collapsing back down into the softness of my bed. Rolling over, I crack open my eyes and look around.

Good God, that hurts.

Daylight pierces through my eyes, nearly blinding me. I moan as it penetrates my skull, leaving my head feeling like it’s being cracked open with a jackhammer. When the thumping starts up again, I realize it’s not just in my head.

Who the fuck would visit me this early and where in God’s name are my parents?

After five more minutes of knocking, I give up and roll out of my bed. I pull myself to my feet and stumble out of my room, using every ounce of my strength not to vomit. The room spins as I fumble my way to the front door. I yank it open when I eventually find it and fall straight into a strong pair of arms. I look up, relieved to see it’s my friend Laura, holding me, and not the solar panel guy who’d stopped by yesterday.

“What the hell are you doing?” Laura giggles, as I nestle against her chest. She guides me back inside and closes the door. “Are you trying to breastfeed off me? Because I can assure you they’re well and truly dry.”

“No, you idiot, I’m trying to numb the pain and your bosom is comforting,” I mumble.

The words stick in my throat like cotton candy. God, even talking hurts. I let her lead me over to the couch and sit down, resting my head back against the cushions.

“Well, that explains why you missed our lunch date.”

“Oh shit.” I groan. “It was Jake’s bachelor party last night. I think I drank too much.”

“I figured,” Laura says. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure you were still alive.”

“Barely,” I mutter, rubbing my face.

Laura and Jake have met a few times, but I wouldn’t call them friends. He did invite her last night, but finding a sitter is always a challenge for Laura, as is getting time off work.

“Sit down and I’ll make you coffee.” She grins at me before disappearing into the kitchen. “I take it you had fun, then?” she calls out.

“Fun,” I mumble as I faceplant into the couch. I roll over and stare at the ceiling, a frown on my face. “Actually, I can’t remember whether fun was had or not.”

The drive to the club with Mom flashes through my head.

Shit, Dad was in the hospital.

I stand up, waiting the few seconds for the dizziness to subside before I disappear into my room in search of my phone. When I don’t find it in the bed, or on my nightstand, I give up and go back out to Laura.

“So, tell me about your night?”

“I would, if I could actually remember any of it,” I grumble. “Hey, can I borrow your phone?”

“Sure,” she says, handing it to me. “Where’s yours?”

I shrug and punch in Mom’s number, then lift the phone to my ear.

“I don’t know, but I need to see how my dad is.”

“Your dad?” she repeats, her eyes widening. “What happened?”

“Laura?” Mom’s voice cuts in before I can respond to Laura. “Have you seen Becca?”

“This is Becca,” I reply, yawning.

“Finally,” Mom gasps. “I’ve been trying get a hold of you for hours. Where the hell have you been?”

“I’m at home.” I frown. “Where are you? How’s Dad?”

“Oh he’s fine. We’re still at the hospital because they were concerned about a blood clot. It’s you we’ve been worrying about.”

“Me?” I laugh nervously. “Why would you be worried about me?”

“Maybe you should check your Facebook and then ask me that,” she sighs. “This is probably my fault. I never had the talk with you about the harm that sexy photos can do. Sure, they’re great for sparking up a dying marriage. I can vouch for that—”

“I’m twenty-seven, not fifteen,” I reply. “I don’t need a lecture on sexting.”

“Fine, then maybe a lesson in social media, because you clearly need to learn a thing or two about selfies,” Mom snaps. “Look I have to go. The physio is here for your father. Just call me back later, okay?”

“Sure,” I mumble.

I end the call and click on Laura’s Facebook page. What the hell is she talking about? Selfies? I never take selfies. I’m the queen of avoiding the camera whenever it’s pointed at me. I click on my profile and—

Fuck.

I avoid the camera, except for last night, apparently.