Page 20 of Miss Understood

Jesse scrunches his eyebrows and tips his head back. “Yeah, right before we hit up a strip club, I think. I remember boobs.”

“Of course you do,” I groan. “Where did it fade out for you?”

Jesse looks at me, but his face pinches like he’s actually on a scavenger hunt in his own head.

“Truth or dare.”

“But that was back at Pearsons,” I say, knowing he clearly remembers more if he can recall all the way up to the strip club.

He shakes his head. “No, that’s where it started, but I’m pretty sure it kept going all night.”

“I dare you to jump in the fountain,” I say.

Jesse nods. “I dare you to lick the statue’s dick.”

“I dare you to give the stripper a lap dance.”

Foggy memories are kicking behind a wall in my head. “That’s a dangerous game,” I tell him. Especially when you’re downing shots and no one is picking truth because you’re all too drunk to form sentences, much less conversation.

Looking down at the sheet wrapped around me, I can’t help but ask, “Did we? You know.”

“Fuck?”

I glare at him, but he brushes me off with a shrug. “Probably not.”

“How do you know?” I tighten my grip on the sheet.

“You had to ask.” He looks from me to where his dick is hidden by the blanket and smiles.

“You’re such an asshole.” I find the strength to stand up, but it isn’t graceful trying to stay hidden in the sheet while also maneuvering myself onto my feet. I shuffle past the bed and work my way down the hall, and I’m pretty sure I hear him mumble, “So I’ve been told,”under his breath as I rush past.

Locking myself in the bathroom, I lean against the counter and take what feels like the first breath of the morning. As big of a jerk as Jesse might be, he’s probably right. My downtown feels tense and untraveled, and I’m pretty sure if I’d been riding his dick all night I’d still feel it, even if I couldn’t remember.

I sink my hands through my hair and am met with knots and tangles. My makeup is smudged, and my hair is a bird’s nest. I smell like stale alcohol, and I’m pretty sure there’s some stripper’s glitter on my chest. I hop in the shower and pray Jesse leaves before I get out so we can forget about this whole mess.

As if that’s possible. The vision of him stretched out in my bed is burned into the back of my eyelids.

If I thought hating him from afar was torture, I’m positive getting to know what’s under his expensive suits is going to be much worse.

I sit on the shower floor and let the hot water wash over me until my palms are wrinkly and I feel like last night is off my skin. This is a disaster. I’m a professional, regardless of what I do during my free time. I don’t mix business and pleasure, and I don’t let my personal life affect my work.

Last night changed all that. Dancing with the boss, waking up to him naked in my bed.

Another thing he’ll no doubt use against me.

Another reason to doubt me.

I get out of the shower, and when I start to wipe my hand across the mirror to clear the fog, something shiny catches my attention.

“What the?” I stretch my left hand out in front of me, and my heart pounds harder, throbbing all the way up to my throat.

I quickly wrap a towel around my body and rush out of the room with still soaking wet hair. Jesse is still here, and thankfully dressed, but that’s not the first thing that catches my attention when I turn the corner.

In his hands is a single piece of paper that might as well carry the weight of the world.

“Truth or dare.” It comes out as almost a whisper when I say it.

Jesse looks up, his eyes playing the same wide shock I can feel in mine. The drinks, the night, the game, they all hit like a sledgehammer, shattering the last of the hazy drunken shield in my brain.

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