Page 121 of His Secret Gift

“Don’t worry, Kay,” Denver says, wrapping my arm around his broad and strong shoulders. “I gotcha.”

“Woo! Go, Kayla!” some of the others cheer me on, having never seen me like this before. Sure, I got a little drunk in Morocco but never sloppy.

“What do you say, guys? The bar?” Gwen suggests.

“Oh, no,” I protest.

My vision may be hazy, but I can still see that she’s scowling. “You’re no fun,” she mutters, “booping” my nose.

“Leave her alone, Gwen!” Callie says, pushing her away. “Denver, let’s get her back to the room.”

“You got it.”

“Thank you for being such a good friend,” I hear myself slur.

“Of course,” she responds, lifting my other arm up and over her tiny frame.

Then, realizing at the different angles my appendages are in, I start cracking up. One is way above my head and the other is below.

But before I know it, I’m face planting into the bed, and Callie is telling me where a bucket is that she’s placed next to me.

“Just don’t roll over onto your back, okay? I’ll be back soon to check on you.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I feel so sleepy and so guilty for letting the night take such a turn. I thought I was having a little bit of innocent fun but then I was shit faced… kind of what seemed to happen to Jack that one night in Morocco when I was dancing with the guy he knew from college and that long-haired bartender.

Suddenly, a huge bout of nausea hits me, and I lean over and let the contents of my stomach out into the bucket. I’m glad I was able to make it because I would’ve felt even guiltier if I messed up the fancy white comforter.

“Uh.” I roll over, despite Callie’s warning for me not to, and watch the ceiling spin when it’s over.

Then, I soon hear knocking and a man’s voice calling my name.

“Kayla? Kayla? It’s Jack. Are you okay in there? Callie stopped by my room and asked for me to check in on you.”

Ugh.I know what I said about being appreciative for her help, but at this very moment, he’s the last person I want to see.

“Listen,” he continues. “Either you open the door, or I’ll go tell the front desk that we smell gas or something. Trust me. I will find a way. Especially if there’s a chance you might not be okay.”

I grunt and get myself up before stumbling across the room.

Then, I undo the lock and finally open the door.

He visibly sighs in relief. “Thank god. You’re alright.”

I squint at him. “If you consider just yacking in a bucket alright.”

After stepping inside, he guides me by the shoulders onto one of the many couches in the room. “Just take a seat. Which bed are you staying in?”

“That one,” I point.

“Okay.” He walks over and collects the trash can I just told him about. “Here we go.” He sets it at my feet before allowing me to rest against his shoulder.

“How’d your lesson today go.”

“Shh.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “Let’s not talk about any of that now.”

“No! I want to.” I pop up.

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