I glance around me while he’s gone. There’s a mirror on the wall to my right, and the second I lay eyes on my blurred reflection, I gasp. I look horrific. My hair, which I spent over an hour straightening, has returned to its natural wave and feels knotted and gross. The same goes for my makeup, which Rachael slaved over. One of the fake eyelashes she applied is missing. I quickly reach for the other and pull it off, sticking it to the bedside table.
“Here,” Tyler says, and I jump, a little startled. He’s filled the glass back up to the brim again, and he sets it down on the table, right next to the eyelash I’ve just torn off. “Water and sleep: the only way to sober up and minimize your hangover as much as possible.” He laughs a little as he moves around the bed, heading over to the window and pulling the curtains shut.
“You should take your own advice sometimes,” I comment, but I’m only teasing him. I’m still feeling a little buzzed. “Next time you’re drunk, I’m just gonna chant, ‘Water and sleep, water and sleep.’”
When he turns back around from the window, he’s biting back a smile that’s fighting its way onto his lips. He just shakes his head and nods at me. “Get some sleep, Eden.”
I let out a laugh and then finally give in. He’s right, after all. I really do need to get some sleep. Grabbing the sheets, I slide down onto my back and get comfy, burying my head into the pillow as I fluff it up a little. I’m just about to close my eyes when I notice that Tyler’s lingering by the door, a little unsure of himself, like he doesn’t know whether he should leave the room or stay.
I lift my head up a few inches so that I can look at him properly. I’m not laughing anymore. “Are you going back to the party?”
“I don’t know,” he says quietly. His eyes fall to the carpet as he shrugs, but he doesn’t glance back up again. “I mean, Tiffani’s probably looking everywhere for me.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll let you sleep,” he says, his eyes gradually meeting mine. And then he smiles again, and it’s another one of those smiles of his that I adore. A genuine smile. Sincere. Gentle and reassuring.
I lay my head back down on the pillow and roll over onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut as he leaves the room. As I’m left in the silence, all of me craves for him to come back and stay. I want him to be lying next to me, just like the other night when he crawled into my bed in the middle of the night. I just want to know that he’s here with me. I want to feel his warmth and his touch. That’s all I need. It’s all I’m missing.
I think that’s the moment I realize I’m in love with him.
*
A few hours later, I’m stirring awake. The heat in the room is suddenly unbearable, and I wake up almost sweating, my face flushed. Immediately I reach for my water on the bedside table through the darkness as I sit up. It’s warm by now, but I gulp it down nonetheless.
“How are you feeling?”
I immediately stop drinking, almost spluttering the water all over myself, and fire my eyes over to the corner of the room, right next to the window. It’s dark, but I can still make out Tyler’s outline, not to mention the vividness of his eyes. The more I focus on him, the clearer he becomes. Soon I can almost see his entire face.
“Better,” I say. This is true. The room is no longer spinning and my thoughts are logical again. Now my only problem is that I’m just too hot and extremely thirsty. “What time is it?”
“Three,” Tyler says. He darts his eyes to the window and laughs so quietly that it’s almost inaudible. I notice that the curtains are open again, and from my position on the bed, all I can see is the dark sky and the moon. There’s still the faint lull of music echoing from the beach. “The party’s still going strong.”
I look back over to him and my eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Didn’t you go back?”
“No,” he murmurs. His voice falls even quieter than it already is, almost on the verge of becoming a whisper. “I was worried that you’d throw up or something. Plus, it was probably best that I just stayed away from it all.”
He chews on his lower lip and suddenly he appears sad, uncomfortable. It wasn’t that he looked super happy before or anything, but there’s this sort of shift in his expression that makes him look vulnerable in that moment. He appears worn out, deflated even.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, the glass of water clutched tightly in my hands. It’s warm against my skin.
“Nothing,” he says. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees and interlocks his hands, staring at nothing in particular.
“I know there’s something wrong.” I take another sip of my water, but my gaze never leaves his face. I’m scared I’ll miss something, like a flash of emotion in his eyes or a sense of aggravation, but so far he’s doing a good job at remaining pretty aloof. “What’s wrong, Tyler?” I ask again.
He lifts his head up and glances sideways at me. With a mighty sigh, his shoulders sink. “It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“This time last year,” he says slowly, but then his words taper off and he looks away again.
“You passed out,” I finish. His eyes flash back up to mine, and he looks confused. “Rachael told me. You passed out because of the drugs.”