Page 19 of Tangled Rose

Chapter 12

And this is why I don’t drink all that much. It’s not worth feeling like such shit the next morning. My head is thrumming and my mouth is dry and disgusting as I roll over in the bed. Gah. This sucks.

Peering at my phone, I see it’s just shy of nine and wonder if anyone else is up yet. I kind of doubt Carissa and Mike are back already from wherever the fuck they went to. Maybe I can sneak downstairs and find something to settle my stomach before someone else has the same idea. I press my hand to my belly as it sloshes around uncomfortably.

If I hadn’t been drinking, I probably would never have watched Beau and his flavor of the day like that. Ugh. So stupid. Most of the dumb stuff I do while drunk seems like much less of a big deal in the light of day. This time, though? Fuck. That was not my best moment. And the kicker is, I could have walked right back out of the room. But I hadn’t. And he could’ve said something. But he hadn’t. He’d let me watch. And if I’m not mistaken, he’d gotten off on it, too.

Will he tell people what I did? Blood rushes to my cheeks again just thinking about it.

For the moment, I’m going to have to give up worrying about it. I throw on a sports bra and shorts, brush my teeth, and pull my hair into a ponytail. I have no idea what I’ll do today, other than get another workout in and hide from everyone. I tug on a pair of socks and my sneakers. The entire day stretches out ahead of me, and I have to figure out how I’m going to handle being in this house with this crew. It’s odd, but I feel more alone surrounded by these people than I ever had when I was home by myself.

I listen carefully from my doorway, then creep past Beau and Griffin’s bedrooms. By the time I hit the bottom of the stairs, I realize it was all for nothing. The scrape of utensils on dishes is unmistakable. Then there’s a low murmur of voices. I can’t quite hear what they’re saying, but I swear I caught my name.

With a huff, I collect myself and enter the kitchen. Beau, Griffin, and Micah are lined up on stools at the island, scarfing down something that smells delicious. My stomach rumbles.

“Hey.” Beau is the first to speak, which surprises the hell out of me.

I look anywhere and everywhere that’s not at him. I can feel his eyes on me, though.

When I look at Griffin, he gives me a cautious smile as he stands up, taking his plate to the sink. “Monday is Darla’s day off. You’ll have to fend for yourself for meals today.”

Micah gets up, too, glancing first at Beau, then at me. “Beau makes a mean omelet.”

“It’s okay. I’m not hungry.” I’m such a liar. Their food smells so good I want to cry. Pivoting, I open the fridge and pull out a bottle of water.

Griffin hesitates at the doorway. “Micah, you up for a couple games of Ping-Pong before we workout?”

“Sounds good. Let’s go.”

Beau’s still stuffing forkful after forkful of his omelet into his mouth as he watches my every move. He chews, swallows, and keeps staring at me.

I uncap the bottle and tip it to my lips, glugging half of it down before I stop. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, replace the cap, and set the bottle down in front of me.

Beau slides off his stool. “I guess I’ll toss the rest of this. I’m not hungry enough to eat all of it.”

I can’t say what the expression is on my face when he says that, but he laughs quietly. “I’m kidding. I was trying to find out if you were actually hungry.” He pushes away from the counter. “Here, sit and eat the rest of this. I’ll make another, and we can split that one, too.”

I press my lips together. Where I’m from, no one is kind unless they think they can get something from you. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“Because I’m a fucking nice guy, Seven.” Clearly agitated, he pulls out a package of cheese, slapping it onto the counter, then tosses a tub of butter next to it. He turns around with the eggs, handling them slightly more gently, but lets the fridge door shut with a slam.

I don’t know what to say, so I sit down on the stool he’d vacated and wolf down the rest of his omelet before he’s finished whisking the eggs for the next one.

He pours them into the pan and glances over at the empty plate in front of me, cocking his brow. “Damn. You really were hungry. You have room for more?”

“Yeah. I might be a little hungover, too.”

“Do you need some ibuprofen or something?”

I bite my lip. Nice again. Andisn’t he going to bring up what happened last night? “Maybe.”

He rolls his eyes before opening a cabinet and handing me a bottle of pain relievers. “Next time, take some before you go to bed.”

“Thank you. I guess if you party like this all the time, you would know,” I mumble.

He huffs out a breath and shakes his head, going back to the stovetop, picking up the pan, and expertly flipping the omelet. He adds some cheese to the top, then comes over to stand across from me. Gripping the edge of the counter, he eyes me. “You know, I’ve been trying with you, but you sure don’t make it easy.”

“Is that what last night was?” We stare at each other, his brown eyes burning into mine like they had last night, his own brand of intensity overwhelming me once again. I slip into a rather vivid memory of the way we’d connected. God. He’d made me pant for him. It’d been so hot, like his gaze was fire, licking a path over me everywhere he’d looked.

The light from the movie had been flickering, both of us unable to tear ourselves from the moment. And, oh God, I know how truly passionate Beau looks when he comes.

White-hot desire tightens my nipples and snakes down to my center, making me throb for him. I hiss out a breath. Dammit.How does he do this to me?

He opens his mouth to say something but I don’t want to hear it. I hold a hand up. “Forget it. I don’t want to know.”

“Lyla…” He groans.

I’m actually dying to know what he has to say and if he told anyone what happened, but I can’t handle it right now. What if watching him the way I did means there’s something wrong with me? What if I’m more like my mother than I’d thought? With a strangled cry, I scoot off the stool and take off running. I burst through the front door and run down the driveway like a demon is hot on my heels.

---