Page 39 of Grudge Puck
God damn it. Why does this keep happening?
Chapter 12
Aftermath
Camille
I knew from the very second I woke that I'd slept in. Worse yet, my temples throbbed with a head-splitting hang-over.
Holy shit, I slept in, and I'm supposed to be opening the bakery for our big day.
I opened my swollen, sensitive eyes and discovered theotherreason I was super fucked.
I'm in Piper's bed? Oh my God—last night—oh no—
It wasn't just a bad dream. I'dactuallyfucked Beau last night. In Piper's bed.
Guilt and shame flooded my bloodstream. Panic, too, as I launched out of bed and discovered the horrifying evidence: Piper's bed sheets were stained with our sex fluids, like a chalk outline documenting the scene of our crime.
You could tilt your head, study the pattern, and know exactly what had happened. The sprawling outline of my scandalous wetness told you where exactly I'd gotten fucked, and the shameful fact that I'd beenveryaroused. The splatters and streaks of cum that Beau let fly everywhere, shooting far across the bed, sure suggested that he'd enjoyed himself, too.
I slapped my forehead.Oooooh my God. I am so dumb.
Scrambling, I picked up my phone. Sure enough, the battery had died, and that's why my alarm hadn't gone off. I plugged it in for a quick charge, and the clock showed 9:00 AM.
Fuck. We're supposed to be open right this very minute.
I took a peek outside Piper's bedroom door. She was still snoozing on the couch.
Thank God she sleeps like a hibernating bear.
I whipped the tainted bed sheets off the mattress and hurriedly made her bed with a set of clean sheets. Hurrying, I threw on my dress—only to see myself in the mirror and remember that Beau had shot his stupid, sleazy cum all overthat,too.
God damn you, Beau!
I rifled through Piper's closet for a fresh change of clothes.
Then I bundled our dirty sex sheets and last night's clothes in a plastic bag—I'd have to get those dry-cleaned and sneak them back into her closet next time I was over.
It was time to go. I had to hurry.
I gave Piper, sleeping so peacefully and innocently, a frown as I passed by.
“I'm so sorry,”I whispered, knowing in my gut that I was the most rotten friend in the world.
***
I made it to Velvet Bakery an hour after we were scheduled to open.
Alineof people stood outside the bakery, scratching their heads with confusion and muttering. They double and triple-checked their copy of theTimesarticle, to makesurethey had the right time.
“I'm sorry!” I announced as I hurried to the front of the line and unlocked the door. “I'm so sorry, everyone! I had some troubles this morning. I still need time to get set up.”
Judging by the disgruntled rumblings, the crowd was not pleased.
“Well how long is it going to take?” someone asked.
“At least an hour,” I said, biting my lip—but I knew an hour wouldn't even be enough.“Actually, you should probably come back in two.”
