Page 70 of Degrees of Control

“Jesus, Hayley, you’re not going to try and make out with her again, are you?” Sophia asked.

“Maybe.” Hayley, wriggled her eyebrows. “Charlie, would it make you laugh if I did that?”

Charlie gave her a watery grin. “Probably.”

“All right then.” Hayley rubbed her hands together. “Jordan, prepare to get kissed.”

Sophia seized a handful of Hayley’s hair and tugged. “Enough, weirdos.” She stood up. “Charlie, talk to James tomorrow. Hayley, find Ron if you’re horny. We’re hitting the dance floor. My slut cousin isnotruining my pre-bachelorette party.”

Chapter 18

James woke up on a scratchy woolen sofa, vomit burning in his nose. He stumbled into the nearby bathroom to retch. When it was over, he rinsed his mouth out under the tap. Feeling weaker than a newborn and sick to his stomach, he eased his body back onto the sofa, trying to unscramble the last twelve hours. He’d arrived at Will’s house at around three in the afternoon. He spent the day drinking with his cousins and old school friends. Will’s wife had emerged just as the sun was setting, as though she was the queen of fucking England. She was wearing a silvery one-piece jumpsuit and she looked old, he’d thought with vicious satisfaction. She wasn’t a twenty-three-year-old dancer anymore. As night gathered, the party’s population had doubled, then tripled until there were trucks and cars all over the front lawn. James remembered Will running out to give people shit about parking on his rose bushes.

After that everything was a blur—drinks, half-familiar faces, conversations about football and work. The last thing he could recall clearly was some of his little sister Sarah’s old friends stripping off and jumping into the pool. They had been splashing him, shouting for him to get in. That was it, end of reel.

He didn’t remember coming into the guest house or puking or why he had this bone-deep feeling of guilt. He extracted his phone from his pocket, groaning at the flare of light shining into his bleary eyes. Two things made his shriveled stomach churn; a call to Charlotte at two in the morning and a text from Sophia at five o’clock. It said simply“slut.”They weren’t the kind of cousins who exchanged sexually-charged insults so he assumed the text had something to do with the call he made.

Oh no, oh no. Oh fuck.

James jumped up much faster than he should have and rushed back to the mirror. He winced as he pulled his shirt over his throbbing head. Everything hurt. He inspected his back and shoulders but there were no scratches, lipstick or love bites, not that this proved anything. Condoms. He frantically checked for his wallet, but it wasn’t anywhere to be found. Collapsing back on the couch, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He couldn’t remember hitting on anyone, but if a girl had come onto him would he have stopped her? He’d learned fifteen years ago that he wasn’t to be trusted. That he didn’t have the morality God gave an unneutered dog. Something heavy rolled in his stomach.

Charlotte forgave you, she cares about you, and you went and fucked someone else.

“I don’t know that,” he said to the empty room and fought the urge to hurl again.

There was only one way to find out, he’d need to make a call. James’ hands twitched as he scrolled through his contacts. Charlotte Bell was between Charlize Wet Lips and someone whose only identifier was ‘Cherry Tits.’ Jesus Christ, he was scum.

He selected Charlotte’s number, reached out to the one girl in billions he wanted to talk to. He didn’t think his heart beat the entire time the phone was ringing.

“Hey, James. How you feeling?”

Just the way she said his name stirred up all kinds of memories. He could just picture her sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor, pretty as a picture. Inexplicably, arousal battled its way through his fear and nausea.

“I’ve been better. What happened last night, did I call you?” There was a long pause and panic was added to the bullshit sensations already surging through body.

“Yeah, you did. Can I come over tonight and talk to you about it?”

“Of course,” James blurted out. “Anytime you want, I’ll be waitin’.”

“Okay, well, I’m teaching at seven. I’ll come around after that?”

“Sure. You wanna go get somethin’ to eat?”

Hopefully hecouldeat by then. Right now the mere thought of food made him want to dry heave.

“No, it’s okay,” Charlotte said. “See you around eight. Have a good flight.”

The line disconnected, taking some part of him with it.

The flight home was hell, there was nothing worse than being hungover on a plane. When he managed to stumble into his apartment, James tried to make himself presentable. He showered for over thirty minutes, brushing his teeth and spraying on cologne to minimize the scent of the grain alcohol seeping from his body. He had no idea what was going to happen when Charlotte showed up but experience told him they were going to fight. That was fair enough. He had nothing to explain his sorry behavior. A quick search of his brother’s house revealed his wallet but the condom was still tucked inside it and he couldn’t find any further evidence of what might or might not have taken place after ten o’clock. Will had been even more hungover than he was and his wife was out with their kids. Not that he would have spoken to Meghan even if she was home.

There was a knock at his front door and James’ heart leapt into his mouth. If his brain wasn’t still sloshing around inside his skull he would have jogged to answer it.

Please don’t be crying, please don’t be crying, please don’t be crying…

The door swung open and James wanted to laugh at his dramatic assumptions. Charlotte looked calm and gorgeous in black yoga pants and a metallic silver tank top. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was carrying, of all things, a bunch of bananas. Wildly, James wondered if they were for sex reasons, and then she kissed him on the cheek and he stopped thinking. Her presence was like an ice cube on a burn, he felt soothed just by being near her. However, it was obvious from the way she was gaping at his face that she didn’t feel the same way. “Whoa, you look…”

“Like shit?” James said. “I know. You want coffee?”

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