“But Derek Jeter got that home run,” I pant in defense. I may be drunk, but I’m still perfectly aware of the deal we made.
With his hands still pinning my wrists down, he moves his lips to my neck, trailing soft kisses from my jaw straight down to my collarbone. It makes me shiver and I want nothing more than to run my fingers through his hair, but when I make an attempt to move my hands, he only tightens his grip on them even more. I can feel him breathing against my skin as he leaves one final lingering kiss right below my ear. “But, Eden,” he murmurs, his voice raspy, “no one gets a home run at the start of the game.”
15
As I attempt to peel my eyes open the very next morning, I stretch out my stiff arms. I grab the leg of the coffee table, and only then do I get my bearings, realizing that I’m sprawled across the floor. The living room carpet feels sticky with spilled drinks, and as I finally force my eyes open fully, the room becomes clearer. There’s a faint stream of sunlight illuminating the apartment, but it’s neither bright nor amber enough to pass as dawn. It could be any time of the day. It could be the middle of the afternoon. Who knows? I don’t even know how or when the party ended. The only thing I can remember is kissing Tyler in the laundry room. After that . . . Nothing. Blank.
From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of my heels a few feet away from me. I don’t remember taking them off. The apartment reeks of booze and cigarettes, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so gross. Awkwardly and slightly shamefully, I push myself up from the ground, where I clearly must have collapsed into a drunken slumber at whatever hour in the morning. I’m on my feet for barely a split second when a sudden shooting pain fires its way up the left side of my head, and I breathe as deeply as I can in a poor attempt to make it stop. It does little to help. In fact, it seems to only make it worse. The shooting pain develops into a heavier, throbbing kind of pain. I rub at my temples as I scan the apartment, but it’s just littered with crap. Half-empty bottles of beer and crushed plastic cups and shot glasses are scattered over the kitchen worktops, and when I glance around the living room I’m slightly relieved to discover that I’m not the only one here. There are two others.
Snake’s on one couch, his blond hair ruffled, and he’s on his stomach with his face pressed into the black cushions. He’s snoring quietly and it doesn’t seem like he’ll be stirring anytime soon, so I reach for his arm, which is dangling over the edge of the couch, and place it back next to him.
Opposite him, one of the guys from the apartment three floors down is spread out upside down across the other couch. It’s the auburn-haired one, Alex. His jaw is hanging open so wide that I think it might just have become unhinged.
I rub at my temples in a second attempt at soothing away my headache as I head to the kitchen, my eyes set on the coffee machine and nothing else. I could go with a cup or five. Part of me even considers waking up Snake and Alex to offer them coffee, but just as I’m debating this with myself, I drift past the mirror on the living room wall.
I pause. I edge back in front of it. I part my lips, horrified.
My dress is no longer modest. It seems to have crept its way up my thighs a lot more than it should have and I’m just thankful no one is awake yet to witness it. I adjust the dress as quickly as possible and can do nothing but sigh at my appearance. The makeup that I slaved over hasn’t survived the night. My eyes are completely smudged, and smears of black and silver seem to decorate my face. My mascara feels clumped and my eyes look swollen, sort of like they’re bloodshot, and half my hair has fallen out of my updo. There are strands flying around all over the place, and once again, I sigh. Sigh, sigh, sigh. Why did I drink so much?
I know the answer. It’s obvious. It was because of Tyler. It was because of Tyler and Emily and the fact that it took them over an hour to buy limes from a damn convenience store. Why did they end up talking? I don’t know what they talked about. I don’t know where they went. All I know is that I didn’t want to think about it, and Snake was manning the alcohol supply, which suddenly appeared much more appealing at that point. Last night, drinking a lot didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Now? I see it was the worst idea.