A more distinct flash came back. His hand on my jaw, and his lips on mine. He was warm still, from the tub, and the air was icy cold.
“You saw that? Yeah, I really...hardly remember it.”
“Well,” she said, “you two looked pret-ty into it, if you ask me. Which you didn’t, for some reason. Jesus, if you don’t remember it, aren’t you even curious how you two looked together? You looked perfect, by the way, positively adorable. You have exactly that right height difference. I would have thought you would think he was too perfect looking, but honestly, I think he’s right on the cusp of being too pretty.”
The truth was I did find him a little too pretty. Sparkling green eyes with sandy brown lashes, a nose carved from marble and lips that were just big enough without becoming weird and gross. His cheekbones could win People magazine’s Sexiest contest all on their own. But I tended to be more into the Ryan Gosling type than the James Marsden type. Still hot. But less like a Disney Prince.
So...I had been making out with Eric. And had seemed into it.
Of course I hadn’t hooked up with Aiden. It wasn’t exactly a relief, since I didn’t want to have slept with Eric Hornby, either, but I should have known that even my drunk, blacked-out brain wouldn’t allow me to betray my best friend. Or sleep with Aiden, who was also a good friend.
My stomach flipped. Had I had enough sense to use a condom? I wasn’t on birth control or anything. It had always felt like a waste, since I had no boyfriend and no real prospects. Did I even really know how to use a condom? What if we had but had put it on wrong or...inside out or something?
“Where did you sleep even?” she asked, sticking her hand in a box of Apple Jacks.
Plummet. “Downstairs. I don’t even know who else was down there, it was dark. I came up here to find ibuprofen.”
She laughed. “’Atta girl. Where’s Aiden? He didn’t leave, did he?”
I remembered his hand on my knee, and the way he had flirted. I cringed. What had been up with me last night? Why had I ended up in his room? Why was I slutting it up left and right? Next thing, someone was going to say they’d seen me giving Reed a BJ in the bathroom or something.
Ew.
I wanted to curl up in a ball. “I don’t know. Probably not?”
“Well, I’m dying to get out of here and get some Chipotle. You look downstairs, I’ll look in these rooms. I swear to God if I find him in bed with another girl, he is going to wake up to a solid punch in the balls and no girlfriend.”
“I’ll...go look.”
“Thanks, love. I need some Pedialyte or something....”
I went downstairs to where I knew Aiden was, and opened the door to find him awake and sitting on the edge of the bed putting on his shoes.
I flipped on the light and shut the door. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“How the hell did this happen?” I gestured at the bed.
He shook his head and gave me an I have no idea look.
“I guess...I guess it’s good no one came in,” I said.
“Yeah, it is.” He bit the inside of his cheek, as I knew he usually did when he was nervous. “Are you...good?”
“Me? Yeah, no, I’m fine.”
I wanted to ask if he knew what had happened with Eric, but it seemed weird to talk about it with him for some reason.
“I don’t want it to be awkward or anything,” he said.
“No, me, neither. I just...I mean, if Brooke found out...”
“She would kill us both.”
“I mean, she probably wouldn’t freak too too much. We just slept together. Or, you know, next to each other. It’s not like we hooked up.”
I searched his face for a sign that maybe I was wrong about it being Eric, and that maybe it was actually Aiden.
But his face went blank, and he just nodded. “Right, no big deal.” He went back to putting his shoes on.
“Nattie,” shouted Brooke, clearly not concerned about waking the sleeping people, who were bound to be nursing brutal hangovers the second they were roused.
I reopened the door, thinking it was sketchy to have it shut.
“Yeah, coming!” I tried to whisper-shout.
“Aiden down there?”
I still felt guilty, but I reminded myself I had no reason to. Except that it still didn’t look good that I had slept in the same room as him. And that if anyone had seen us talking on the couch, they could make us both look bad.
“Yeah, he’s down here,” I replied.
“Is he with a girl?”
I swallowed. “Just me.”
“Thank God. Well, tell him to hurry his ass up, I’m starving.” I heard her depart from the top of the stairs.
I looked back to Aiden. “Hurry your ass up, Brooke is starving.”
“So I hear.”
“Hey, um...” I looked into the basement living room. I dropped my voice and moved in a little toward him. “Do you think maybe we should say you slept out there on that little couch?”
He looked where I was pointing. Justin lay passed out on one of the couches, but a love seat was empty.
“Looks like I got a terrible night’s sleep.” His tone had changed. Suddenly he sounded like hardened Aiden. The one I was used to hearing after he and Brooke fought. All curt responses and no joking. Had I made him mad? Was it my fault somehow? Had I creepily and stalkerishly climbed into bed with him?
“Do you...have my sweatshirt?” he asked, standing.
He remembered enough to know that I had worn it. Yeah...I would have to ask him for some clarification on the night’s happenings at a better time.
“Oh, yeah, it’s over here.”
I tossed it to him, quickly gathered my stuff and went upstairs to Brooke.
“Is he coming?”
“Yeah, he’s getting dressed.”
“Dressed? What, was he...naked?”
“No, no.” I laughed nervously. “Putting his shoes on and whatever.”
Reed came out of the hallway, wearing only dark, low-hanging jeans. It looked like he wasn’t even wearing boxers or anything. He rubbed his face and went over to the fridge. He pulled out a beer and popped it open.
I observed his body, which was covered in tattoos. They wrapped around his ribs, disappeared down his pants and laced his collarbone. He was so gross. I would never understand why I’d thought sleeping with him—or even touching him—was a good idea.
“Seriously? A beer right now?” Brooke asked with a sneer.
“Would you prefer to take a shot with me instead?”
She clicked her tongue and then grinned, trying, and succeeding, at being Dangerous, Sexy Brooke. “Maybe.”
He gestured at the counter. “Pour it up.”
Brooke gave a tilt of the head that said, Act like I won’t do it. She then walked over to the counter, poured two shots of whiskey and handed him one.
“No chaser?” he asked.
“Do I look like a pussy to you? Oh, wait, everything does.”
“Oh-ho!”