Frigid (Frigid, #1)

Being stuck here alone with Kyler hadn’t really set in. Normally that wouldn’t be such a big deal, and truthfully I usually would’ve looked forward to something like that, but there was this nagging dread in the pit of my stomach.

I frowned, trying to pull together the memories into something that made sense. I remembered the tequila shots and Mr. Ski Instructor. “Did you get into a fight last night with the guy I was dancing with?”

Kyler’s lips thinned. “You mean the creep you were dancing with? We didn’t get into a fight per se, but we didn’t part on friendly terms.”

Wiggling an arm free, I rubbed my brow. My skin felt gross. That couldn’t be why I felt so uncomfortable. There was more. There had to be. I remember going outside and Kyler making me wear his hoodie. Speaking of which… “Please tell me that I undressed myself last night.”

A half-smile formed. “Is that what you want to hear?”

I smacked my hand over my face. “Oh, my Gods…”

He chuckled softly. “You helped undress yourself and I didn’t peek. And I already saw your unmentionables earlier, so…”

I groaned. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome.” He paused and then he took a heavy breath. My muscles tightened in warning. “How are you feeling?”

That innocent question didn’t match his tone. There was something about last night. Last night. What the hell happened…and then it all came back in a horrifying rush. I’d practically molested him in a drunken stupor.

My body jackknifed into a sitting position, and I almost knocked Kyler off the bed, but that was least of my worries. The movement rattled my poor brain and horror swamped me. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God, I…tried…you…” I was so embarrassed I couldn’t even speak the words.

Kyler sat back, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t remember.”

He was hoping I didn’t remember? I smacked both hands over my face and moaned. Had I been that bad? Had it been that bad for him?

“Hey.” His voice had softened and his fingers wrapped around my wrists, gently pulling my hands away. “Its okay, Syd.”

“No it’s not,” I moaned, ducking my chin. “I molested you.”

Kyler laughed. “You didn’t molest me. Okay. Maybe just a little, but you wouldn’t be the first girl to get all—”

“It’s not funny!” I cried.

Two fingers landed under my chin and he tipped my head up. “It’s no big deal, Syd. People do a lot of things they normally wouldn’t when they are sober, and you were really drunk.”

The problem was that I had wanted to do that while I was sober and apparently it was just a big joke to him. I cast my eyes to the blanket. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, baby. It’s not like it was a horrific experience,” he added dryly.

My gaze swung to his and that’s when I remembered the better moment of last night—him telling me I was beautiful, that he always thought I was beautiful. Some of the unease slid away. “It wasn’t?”

His lips quirked in that adorable way of his. “I’m never going to complain about a girl crawling all over me.”

Okay. That wasn’t a declaration of mutual lust, but it was something I could work with. “Then why…then why did you stop me?”

He blinked once and then twice, as if he couldn’t believe I was asking the question. “I’d been drinking last night, Syd, but I wasn’t that drunk.”

A slice of pain hit my stomach and I froze, staring at him. “You…you weren’t that drunk?”

“No.” He looked confused.

I swallowed, but the lump rising in my throat got stuck. In all the years I’d known Kyler and he’d been sexually active, I’d seen him take girls home when he was sober, tipsy, drunk-off-his-ass, and everything in-between. He was equal-opportunity when it came to having sex. Short. Tall. Skinny. Round. White. Black. Tan. Pale. Oompa Loompa color.

“That hasn’t stopped you before.” And I couldn’t stop myself from talking.

Kyler thrust his fingers through his hair, and then clasped the back of his neck. The shorter strands flopped back onto his forehead. He didn’t answer at first and the longer the silence dragged out the more I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. “You’re different, Syd.”

So I was different and apparently he had to be really drunk to get with me. Tears rushed my eyes, and I had to get away from him. We were too close. I needed space before I completely lost it and humiliated myself more. I started scooting across the bed, grabbing the quilt to cover myself. I needed to get away.

“Hey.” Kyler jumped to his feet. “Sydney, what are you doing?”

“I need to go to the bathroom.” I slid my legs out from the covers. The breath I took was shaky and short as I wrapped the patchwork quilt around me. My feet hit the cold floor and I took a wobbly step, smacking my toe into the edge of the suitcase. I hissed and a tear sneaked out, rolling down my cheek.

He started around the bed. “Let me help.”

“I’m fine.” That damn lump was at the top of my throat. I reached the bathroom door. Maybe I was going to hurl instead of cry. I didn’t know which was better.

“You don’t look fine.”

Pushing open the door, I slid inside and quickly shut it behind me, locking it. I couldn’t even look in the mirror. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it was hopeless. Tears eked out, streaming down my cheeks.

“Syd?” He was right outside the door. “What’s going on?”

“Go away, Kyler.” Sitting down on the rim of the bathtub, I pulled the quilt up to my chin. My stomach was churning. I lifted the lid on the toilet.

The doorknob rattled, and I sank to my knees. I couldn’t even see the toilet, but I hoped I hit it. “Sydney!”

The quilt slipped my fingers and I grasped the sides of the toilet. “Go away!”

A moment of silence stretched into minutes. Then all those stupid shots came back up, leaving my insides feeling wrecked and my heart—well, it was cracked for a whole different reason.