Page 112 of Best Served Cold

“Have a good night.” I ducked out the door before she could do more than echo my sentiment.

17

NOAH

Zane: you going to masons on sun?

Zane: its zane btw

I stared at the texts I’d woken up to yesterday morning.

Friday night was mostly a blur, but a few things had managed to stick in my memory. Like Zane coming to get my drunk ass from the club and putting me to bed.

I didn’t remember a lot of either event but had enough disjointed memories to piece the basics together.

Once I’d felt human again on Saturday, I checked my phone to see if I had any texts or pictures that might tell me more about what happened. All I had was a short thread with River where I’d talked about some song and sent a weird video that looked like the visual version of a butt dial. And the thread with Zane, which had come in as an unknown number before I changed the contact info.

Becca told me that Zane brought me home and helped me get into bed. She’d also gone on and on about using the baseball bat we kept near the door for security like a battering ram and had stolen one of my socks to put on the end of it. Apparently Zane had given her some tips before he left.

I knew I shouldn’t read into it and he was just being nice to my very young and vulnerable sister, but a part of me was tickled that he cared enough to say anything at all.

Which was stupid because Zane probably thought we were a couple of rich kids from the suburbs who couldn’t take care of themselves.

Did he feel sorry for me? I remembered babbling to him in his car, but couldn’t for the life of me remember what I said. Had I told him how lonely I was? Did he think I was a loser for going out alone and getting drunk?

Had Becca said anything to him?

She’d done her usual ‘I’m worried about you so I’m going to smother you with attention’ routine yesterday. Had she told him why she was worried?

I needed to talk to him, but how the fuck was I supposed to face him after that night?

I’d watched the video I sent River. I’d not only been drunk, I’d been sloppy drunk. Not my best look. And Zane had had to leave work to come save my ass for Christ’s sake.

How was I supposed to act like nothing happened when I knew he’d not only helped me get into my pajamas, but had put me to bed like a toddler?

Had I gotten naked in front of him?

I’d woken up wearing the same underwear as the night before, so at least I hadn’t gone full frontal. But he had to have seen the rest of me.

So not only was I a moron who’d gotten drunk while out alone, I’d also needed him to come save me, drive me home, and put me to bed.

And he’d probably seen me mostly nude.

The entire situation was humiliating. The worst part was how I’d been the only one humiliating themselves. And I didn’t even remember most of it.

Maybe that was for the best. Ruminating over the unknown wasn’t as painful as reliving the past. At least this way I could pretend like I had a shred of dignity left and he didn’t see me like the hot mess I was.

I looked back down at the texts from Zane and the weird conversation we’d had yesterday.

Zane: you going to masons on sun?

Zane: its zane btw

Noah: was planning on it

Noah: u?

Zane: for a bit

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