Page 69 of Bad For A Weekend

This is just a physical response to panic. You’re fine.

“What the fuck do you mean you lost Baylor?”

“Who are you talking to?” Sara slurs from where she’s curled up on the couch.

When she walked out of the club holding Baylor’s purse, vomit rose in my throat. I knew what it meant. I took her by the hand and dragged her through the alley and the attached resort, asking everyone we could if they’d seen her. No one had.

With no other leads, we took a cab home, and I rubbed at my temples while the drunk blonde berated me for what I did. She didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know, and from what I gather, Baylor spared no details of what happened between us with her.

“My brother. Go back to sleep.”

Thankfully, she was so hammered that five minutes after we walked through the door, she passed out and hasn’t been an issue since. I’d like to go back to that because I have enough to deal with without a drunk kid telling me all the ways I suck.

“Who was that?” Hudson asks.

“Sara, Baylor’s friend.”

“So you managed to keep track of her friend but not her?” His voice rises, and if he’s this pissed already, his head will explode when he learns the whole truth.

“It wasn’t on purpose. Baylor snuck out a bathroom window with Ziggy. She told Sara they were going right home and that they’d call, but they haven’t.”

“Jesus Christ, Owen. You have to find her.”

“You don’t think I know that?” I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends. If I have any left after this, it’ll be a miracle.

“I knew taking on a teenage brat would bite us in the ass.”

My nostrils flare, and my anxiety quickly turns to anger. “She’s not a brat. Something happened, and she was embarrassed, so she ran into the bathroom. I’m sure she thought she was making the only choice available to her at the time.”

“And where were you this whole time?”

“I got kicked out of the club for punching some asshole who was getting handsy with her.”

“You’re joking. Please tell me you’re fucking joking right now.”

I sit on a green velvet chair and lean over, resting my head in my hand. My body feels too heavy. “I’m not.”

“Was she trying to get him off her?”

A flash of that fucker touching what’s mine runs through my head, and adrenaline begins to pump through my veins once more. But that’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? She’s not mine and was free to do whatever the hell she wanted.

“No,” I mutter.

“Then wh—” The line goes silent as he works things out in his head. There’s only one conclusion he can come to, and things are about to get a whole lot worse. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck her.”

I don’t say anything. I can’t admit it; I’m too ashamed that I ignored every ounce of logic I had and acted on emotion.

“Damn it, Owen,” he practically shouts. “I fucking asked if you were getting too close. You swore you weren’t and that everything was fine.”

“I know, okay. I fucking know.”

“I didn’t take you for the kind of guy who would put a girl in danger over getting some pussy. Because that’s what you did, Owen. You, of all people, know that when you get personally involved, you make shitty decisions.”

“It wasn’t like that. If it was sex I needed, I could’ve gotten that anywhere.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re in love with her?” he roars, this idea somehow worse than just sleeping with her.

“No.” I scoff, but it doesn’t feel right to deny it either, so I amend my answer. “I don’t know.”

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