Page 49 of Collision
“Stop it, Ness, or your ass is gonna end up on the floor,” he scolds me, but I am completely focused on the new nickname he’s given me, “Ness.” I have to say, I like it. Much better than that annoying “stranger” he keeps insisting upon calling me. Although, to be honest I like that one too. But only because he’s the one saying it. And that is something I will never tell him.
“Put me down,” I order, summoning the small amount of clarity I have left. “Right now!” I kick again, but his grasp is inescapable. “You want to take advantage of me! I won’t let you. Even if I am drunk!”
“Calm your tits. I’m taking you to my room to keep you safe from everything else.” Oh. I relax in his arms. He is worried about me, then.He wants to keep me safe. It’s so…sweet. I’m almost about to thank him when he adds, “Stupid.” I pound my fist against his chest, hard as marble.
“Don’t call me ‘stupid’!” I say, pouting like a bratty little girl.
“What was that supposed to be? With a punch like that, you wouldn’t even KO a baby chick, but we can work on it,” he jokes.
Finally arriving on the landing, Thomas opens a door and we enter a dark—very dark—room. I can’t entirely trust my eyesight right now, but I think that the walls are black. Everything is shrouded in darkness, with only a faint light pouring in from the window overlooking the courtyard. I can see a desk facing the wall on my left, next to the entrance, and a large dark wooden wardrobe on my right.
“Where are we?”
Thomas walks me over to the huge bed. It’s very soft; he helps me lie down on it and covers me with a blanket.
“We’re in my room. You can relax.” Oh my God! Relax, my ass. This bed will have seen more pussy than a retired gynecologist!
“I want to get off!” I shout.
“You want to do what?” he asks, confused and amused at the same time.
“Down. Right now.” I roll off the mattress and end up face down on the carpet. “Ouch!”
Thomas bursts out laughing. Normal Vanessa would find this embarrassing, but I’m too drunk for that. I try to pull myself up, but I feel something churn inside me.
“Thomas…” I call out to him, but he is too busy laughing.
“Thomas!” I say louder.
“What’s wrong with you now?” he asks breathlessly.
I put a hand on my belly. “I’m going to…”
He blinks. “Oh fuck, no.” He drags me to the bathroom. Yes, he has an en suite bathroom.
I barely manage to squat down in front of the toilet before I start throwing up, with Thomas right next to me, enjoying a front-row seat to the show.
Tomorrow, when I wake up, I will dig myself the deepest gravemankind has ever known. Thomas leans over me and pulls back my hair, while I hold onto the ceramic edges of the toilet with both hands.
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone,” I plead with him after I’ve finished, spitting saliva into the toilet and wiping away tears of exertion. When I look at my hand, it is stained black. I wonder exactly how hard Tiffany went with the mascara. My God, what a repulsive spectacle I must be to Thomas right now. Shakily, I get up and go to the sink. I wash my hands and rinse my face.
“It’ll be the first thing I do tomorrow after I wake up.” He grins.
I widen my eyes at him. “I will kill you. I swear.” I lurch menacingly at him, intending to grab him by the collar of his shirt, but I can’t, because my stomach is ready for round two.
After what feels like an eternity, I am still in the bathroom, but I feel a little bit better. Except that I smell like death. Thomas is still here with me, and he doesn’t look disgusted. He hasn’t left me alone for a moment, and I don’t know whether to feel grateful or embarrassed about that.
I move away from the toilet. I sit on the floor with my back against the glass door of the shower and hug my knees to my chest. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, looking at the ceiling.
“For what?”
For Travis, for what he did to your sister. For the pain and humiliation he inflicted on you both. For not realizing it sooner. For doubting you. For ruining your night. For making you a witness to all of this. I’m sorry for so many things…
I rub my hands over my face and look into his eyes. “For everything. I’m a disaster, Thomas.”
He sits down next to me. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear and caresses my face. A warm, gentle touch. “We all are,” he says softly. With tears about to flow, I put my hand over his, still on my cheek, and squeeze it tightly. I want him to know that I am grateful to him for tonight. Really grateful. We stay like this for a handful of minutes.
“I stink,” I say disgustedly, interrupting the strange silence thathovers between us.
