Page 52 of Rival Desires

I could relate, but I wasn’t going to delve into the rumor mill.

As we drove, I listened to her talk about her friends. When we pulled up to her building, she invited me to come upstairs. Well, I wasn’t sure she could manage getting there on her own, so I said yes.

I let her grab my hand as we stumbled our way to her third-floor apartment. It was the kind of place where you had to drag yourself up three flights of stairs, but hey, at least the rent was probably cheap.

She somehow managed to unlock the door without my help, but she left it wide open as she waltzed inside. I took that as my cue to follow her, but not to join her in bed - just to get her safely tucked in. Given her yawning and eyelids sagging, I doubted she’d even notice I was there.

As I tucked her into bed and brushed her hair out of her face, I realized I would miss her. It didn’t make a lick of sense, but then again, nothing about this whole thing between Rylee and me had made much sense. And I had a feeling it wasn’t going to get any easier to figure out.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Rylee

I dragged myself out of the murky depths of that weird twilight zone between sleep and consciousness, positive that I had been there for ages. Long enough to sober up, at least. My head was seconds away from a full-blown explosion. I could feel it. Great, just what I needed to make the week perfect- a fucking hangover.

My tongue felt like a puffy, furry creature was taking residence in my mouth, and my lips were stuck together with a layer of grossness. I pried my eyelids open and raised my leaden hand to scrub the gunk from my eyes. The room was bathed in that soft, shadowy light that told me the sun was up, even though I had to squint at the clock on my bedside table to see that it was 9:30 a.m.

As I groaned and pressed my palms to my face, flashes of memories from last night started to play in my mind like a movie. It was a fun girls’ night out, with a nice dinner and lots of laughter. Then came the club, where things got a bit blurry. But I could still remember chuckling and downing drinks with Mallory and Nat.

And then, there was the part where I called Cory.

“Oh, crap,” I croaked, my voice sounding like I’d gargled with gravel. I fumbled around for the water bottle that lived on my nightstand.

I chugged down the water, desperate to recall what I’d blabbed to Cory, but all I got were fragments. Whatever it was, it must’ve been good enough for him to swoop in and save us. I vividly remembered that part - him appearing before me like a real Prince.

A real Prince? More like my imaginary Chippendale.

“Son of a biscuit,” I muttered, flopping my head back onto the pillow as my cheeks turned into a raging inferno.

Yeah, I’d been all kinds of handsy with him. Touching, flirting, praying for a kiss, or even more. The sting of disappointment still lingered when he said he wouldn’t play along. But the knowledge that I’d gotten to him, that I’d turned him on, was hard to ignore.

I owed Cory a massive apology for my antics. And Mallory? I owed her one, too, considering I was her boss, and she shouldn’t have had to witnessthattrain wreck. Nat, on the other hand, was in for a different conversation. A chat about why, in the name of all things holy, she’d let me call Cory, let alone throw myself at him like a lovesick puppy.

Oh, right. She’d been drunk off her ass, too.

I’d always preached about owning up to our mistakes, and it was high time I practiced what I’d been preaching. Grown-up panties on, it was time to face the music.

Yep, I’d messed up big time.

I could only cross my fingers that my little escapade hadn’t caught the eye of anyone familiar with my face. If it had, well, my wild night might become the main course for social media vultures- just the cherry on top of this disastrous week, right?

For the umpteenth time, I questioned my decision to move here, except now, the doubts weren’t just whispers—they were loud and screaming that I’d bungled my life with my choices, and it was time to deal with the fallout.

But first, a shower—a long, hot one—was in order.

I lingered under the hot spray for what felt like ages, letting the water wash away the remnants of my wild night. By the time I emerged from the bathroom, the sports drink and aspirin had worked their magic, and I was starting to resemble a functioning human being. All I needed now was a jolt of caffeine and a little something to calm my rumbling stomach.

My body seemed to be on autopilot as I brewed a pot of coffee and toasted a couple of slices of bread. I collapsed onto the couch with a sigh of relief, grateful for the simple pleasures in life. With each sip of coffee and bite of buttery toast, I felt a little more like myself.

Just as I polished off the last crumb, a knock at the door startled me out of my hangover fog.

Cory’s face popped into my mind, and my heart took off like a jackrabbit. I tried telling myself it was wishful thinking and my tequila-infused shenanigans probably ensured I’d never see that handsome face again. But, hey, a girl could hope, right? So, I gave my hair a frantic fluff and cinched my robe extra tight, hoping to avoid the total trainwreck look.

In my hurry, I neglected to peek through the peephole, so I had no clue the person waiting on the other side was the last person I wanted to see: my dear old dad.

Tall and gangly, Dad sported silver hair and a face so smooth, you’d think he was pushing fifty, not sixty-three. It was beyond me how a guy who perpetually wore a scowl and acted like life was playing a never-ending practical joke on him could look so darn youthful.

“Dad,” I blurted, my voice echoing my shock.

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