Page 33 of Fun at Parties
I wish I hadn’t fallen back asleep. My body may have needed it—thankfully, the urge to vomit has subsided—but I could’ve used the time to acclimate myself to the whole sharing-a-bed thing. Especially since he doesn’t seem fazed.
“Morning.” My voice is raspy from all of last night’s shouting.
He arches his back and raises his arms above his head, making a little groaning noise as he stretches. Good lord, that sleepy, satisfied sound, and his body moving next to mine, inadvertently dragging the bedsheets across my skin. It feels like he’s touching me.
He kills that sensation pretty quickly. “We should talk about last night.”
I pull the blanket up to my chin and roll onto my side, facing him. “Okay.”
He studies me for a moment, probably trying to figure out how to tactfully sayWe would’ve found Logan if you hadn’t drunkenly decided it was time to rehash our baggageorYou ruined everything and I hate you now.I mentallyprepare my apology. Then he says, “I’m concerned that you may need swim lessons.”
“What—”
“All that flailing, I don’t know what stroke that was supposed to be.”
“Hey!”
He mimics me, I guess, windmilling his arms. “I’ve seen kindergartners enter the pool more gracefully than you did.”
“Okay, I—”
“And we need to talk about shoes. You’re not supposed to wear them in the water.”
His eyes crinkle, and I dissolve into laughter. I grab one of the three pillows wedged between us and chuck it at him. It’s a weak throw, but he lets it hit him in the face, which makes me laugh harder.
“Maybe I’ll sign up for Nate and Logan’s Aquatic Education Camp,” I joke.
An awkward look crosses his face. I guess he doesn’t want to talk about it when it’s not a sure thing. He pushes the pillow to the foot of the bed. “How bad are you feeling?”
“Terrible. Earlier I considered eating those eight-hour-old French fries. I clearly can’t be trusted to make a decision until I recover.”
“I’m feeling it too. Let’s order food.” When he leans over the nightstand to pick up the phone, the comforter falls away, exposing his back. Smooth skin with a few freckles on his shoulders, swimming-honed muscles that lead to the pair of dimples at the bottom of his spine. This is probably what he’d look like lying over me.
A dangerous ache rolls through my body. I’m hot again,and acutely aware of the tiny piece of silk I’m wearing. I should’ve stayed in the bathrobe.
He calls down for two orders of eggs and hash browns, plus a Diet Coke for me, and hangs up. “I didn’t realize how drunk I was until we couldn’t find your room. I could’ve sworn it was on the fifteenth floor. You kept saying you wanted to go outside, but that seemed like a bad idea. I hope it’s okay that I brought you here.”
We were honest last night, and in the end, it’s going to be good for us. It feels like progress compared to the wheel-spinning we were stuck in before, so I try the truth again. “I lied to you yesterday.” I tuck my knees up against my chest. “I’m not staying at this hotel. It was too expensive for me, so I booked a room across the street. It’s awful, but it’s cheaper.”
He blinks. “What? You goof.” Before I can protest, he grabs the second pillow from between us and tosses it at my face. “Why didn’t you say something?”
The pillow is blocking my view of him, so I poke a hand out from under the blankets and nudge it over my shoulder and onto the floor. “I don’t know. It’s embarrassing. My financial situation—well, it isn’t great. I can’t spend money on things like this hotel room.”
“Shit,” he says. “I had no idea. Is it because of your parents?”
“Sort of. I’m working on it. It’ll be fine,” I say. “Anyway, I’ll let you recover in peace once I have enough energy to stand.”
“Stay as long as you want. My bed is…your bed?” He cringes as the words exit his mouth.
“Wow,” I say with glee.
The last pillow smacks me in the nose before I can brace myself. I let out a phony yelp of pain and roll onto my back.
“Shit!” He pulls it off me. “Sorry, sorry.” I cover my face with my hands, laughing too hard to respond.
He makes a choked sound. “Quinn.” His tone is different. Serious. Admonishing?
I move my hands. He’s lying halfway over me, the way I imagined a few minutes ago. Up close, I can see the shadow of stubble on his face, and his chest is warm against my bare shoulder.
