Page 114 of The Shake Off

She side-eyed me again, then focused back on the glass. “Why are you here?”

“What d’you mean?”

She cleared her throat, which had her wincing again. “Please tell me we didn’t have sex.”

“No, Babycakes,” I smirked. “After you were done puking you passed out, and you’ve slept like an angel ever since.”

If you didn’t include the snoring.

“I threw up?”

“You sure did,” I nodded.

“And you saw?”

“Yes, babe. You threw up on me.”

I was still trying to hide my amusement, especially at the horror crossing Payton’s face. Her eyes widened, just like they had last night before she’d spewed everywhere. Only this time, her hand shot up to grab her forehead with a groan.

“I puked onyou?” she whispered.

I nodded.

“And you’re still here?”

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone.” I eyed the glass, watching carefully in case it tipped. I probably should have held onto it. “Babe, drink it.”

Payton slowly pushed herself up until she was sitting on her haunches. She peered at the glass again.

“Drink it. Do it in one.”

She looked at it again, and her lip curled. She took another sniff. But then she noticed the t-shirt she was wearing, and glanced up at me with a frown.

She pulled at the front of the shirt. “What’s this?”

“It’s mine, and it’s clean. I didn’t want to go searching around in your drawers, and I had a spare in my bag.”

Truth be told, I knew exactly which drawer she kept her sleep wear in, but since that morning she’d woken up at my place and put my clothes on, I liked seeing her in my stuff.

“But what about you?”

“Payton, I will answer whatever questions you want, just drink first. You’ll feel better.”

She lifted the glass to her lips, and took a sip. One tiny sip, and passed the glass back to me. Her eyes widened again. Her hand slapped over her mouth.

“imgonnabesick.”

She nearly fell out of bed, tripping over herself as she sprinted to the bathroom. Her speed was impressive, and before I’d had a chance to follow her, the sound of retching echoed from the bathroom.

It was amazing there was anything left inside her.

Picking up the washcloth I’d left on the sink last night, I ran it under the cold faucet and pressed it against her forehead as she slumped against the toilet bowl.

“Here, hold this.”

“Ace…” she groaned again, though she looked like she was having a hard time breathing. “Why are you here?”

“Why do you keep asking me that? How about you tell me the answer you’re looking for?”

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