Page 58 of Wright Kind of Trouble

“Let me get you something to sleep in.” He walked into his closet and came out with an oversize T-shirt and shorts. “Here.”

I took the clothes out of his hands and arched an eyebrow. “Are you going to watch?”

“Oh, uh…I’ll just…”

Then, he returned to the closet.

I giggled and tugged on the T-shirt. It came down to my knees, so I opted out of the shorts and crawled into bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, the entire night came back to me in a head-pulsing mess.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no…

“You ready?” Chase asked, stepping back into the room, shirtless.

“Um…”

Then, I hurried past him and hurled the entire contents of my stomach into his toilet. I groaned as I continued to bring up more and more alcohol. When I thought I was finally done, I flushed and staggered away from the toilet. Chase had a spare toothbrush waiting for me next to a bottle of Gatorade and two Tylenol.

“My hero,” I whispered.

I downed the Tylenol and brushed my teeth. Then, I found a washcloth and removed as much of my makeup as I could manage. After, I carried the Gatorade to bed, hugging it to my chest like a life raft. “I feel awful.”

“Based on the marks on your arm, I’d assumed you would.”

He took the Gatorade from me, set it down, and pulled back the covers. I sank onto the bed with a groan. Then, with a gentleness I barely knew how to process, he removed the hair ties from my hair, letting my locks fall to my shoulders, tucked my legs up into the bed, and pulled the covers over me.

“You’re being so nice.”

His expression softened. “Believe it or not, I care about you.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No but,” he said. “Just get some rest.”

“Wait,” I said as he crossed the room. “Where are you going?”

He grinned. “To get the lights. I’m coming back.”

I relaxed back at that pronouncement. He flipped the lights off and got into the bed. His hand rubbed my back, soothing me toward unconsciousness. I felt blackout approaching.

“Chase,” I murmured.

“Hmm?”

“Graduation, right?”

He was silent, his hand stilling on my back. “I don’t expect you to wait, Harley. I want you to live your life.”

“I’m studying abroad in London next semester.”

“Good,” he said without hesitation.

“But you’ll wait?” I whispered.

He was silent for long enough that I thought he might have fallen asleep.

“I’ll wait,” he confirmed.

---