Fuck.
"I have to get out of here." I walk past her, not even able to look her in the eye after what I know she just heard.
I pass Johnson, who’s standing at the door. He’s no doubt the asshole who let Slate up here today. Then I rush down the back stairs until I hit the parking garage only to realize I never found my keys or wallet.
The door swings open behind me and I steel myself for more of Slate and Erica. But it’s Johnson who comes leisurely strolling out, immediately lighting a cigarette.
"Come on, boss. I’ll take you wherever you want to go." He walks over to an immaculately restored muscle car.
"Shit. Thank you." I climb into the passenger’s side, not sure where I’m planning to go. This is the first time I’ve ever actually wanted to run from Erica.
I HAVE been hit by a car—no, it was definitely a truck. That is the only thing I can imagine to explain why my whole body aches. As my stomach lets out a low rumble, last night comes rushing back to my memory. Food poisoning. Shit...
"Sarah," I groan just as her phone starts ringing.
I glance over at the clock to see that it’s well past two p.m., but with most of our night spent throwing up, I’m not even the slightest bit surprised that we slept all day.
Sarah blindly feels around the floor for her phone before finally answering it.
"Hello," she croaks, and I can hear a woman on the other end of the line start laughing. "Emma, hush," she pleads, pulling it away from her ear and looking for the volume button on the side of her pink iPhone.
"So how’d it go with Leo last night after y’all left?" I hear Emma ask just as Sarah puts the phone back to her ear.
"Not good. He tried to kill me," she responds, throwing an arm over her forehead.
"What?" Emma yells.
"I didn’t try to kill you," I moan as I try to sit up.
"Oh my God. You’re still with him!" Emma shrieks. Even though Sarah turned the volume down, I can still hear her reaction clear as a bell.
"It’s not what you think. Apparently, Leo’s idea of celebrating is giving me food poisoning."
"Hey, if it had been intentional, I definitely would not have given it to myself too." I stretch my aching muscles before dragging myself to the kitchen.
I fight down the nausea as I open the fridge. Yeah, food is officially off the menu for today. After grabbing a bottle of Gatorade, I pause only to snag two glasses on my way back to the bedroom.
"I’ll call you when I’m ready. I honestly don’t think I can move right now," Sarah tells Emma as I set a glass down the nightstand. "Okay, bye." She hangs up and curls her lip at the Gatorade as I pour it. "There is no way I’m drinking that."
"Come on. You have to be dehydrated. How are you feeling?" I ask, sitting down on the bed next to her.
"Terrible. My whole body is sore. What did you do to me?"
None of the things I wanted to do. That’s for sure.
Luckily, I manage to keep that little tidbit to myself and reply, "Jesus, I’m so sorry."
"This might very well be the worst first date in history." She gives me a weak smile.
"I’m encouraged that you only said ‘might’ because I can’t imagine it going any worse." I lean back as she slides over to make more room. I don’t even have enough energy to walk around to the other side.
"I only said ‘might’ because you carried me to bed and didn’t let me sleep on the bathroom floor," she teases with a warm and sleepy smile.
"Well, at least there’s that." I smile back. "So, I need to shower. Since I’m relatively sure neither one of us has big plans for the day, why don’t you hang out here? I’ll get you a toothbrush and some clothes and we can watch movies on the big couch in the rec room. I won’t even offer to feed you."
"Oh God, don’t even mention food," she groans and covers her mouth.
"No food, I swear. Just you, me, Gatorade, and bad eighties movies." I reach over to grab her hand. It must catch her off guard, because her eyes snap to mine. I squeeze tight, refusing to release it. "I’ve never had a woman puke to avoid kissing me. You owe me."
"I owe you?" she asks amused.
"Yes, you owe me some serious hand-holding for the way you behaved last night."
"Excuse me?" She sits up only to regret the sudden movement.
I chuckle to myself as she clenches her stomach and slowly leans back on the bed. Then I take the opportunity to slide an arm under her and inch over closer.
"Okay, okay. We can cuddle if you insist." I curl her in my arms as she huffs. I can tell she’s not really annoyed when she relaxes into my side. "So, what do you say? You want to hang out and commiserate with me?"
"Sorry. I don’t like green Gatorade," she responds with a shrug.
"I have red too." I toss her a wink, knowing good and damn well she is making excuses.
"I don’t like ‘eighties movies," she states, flashing me a smile.
Shit. Her smile.