“Did he do this?”
I don’t look up as I reply. “Listen, it’s not as bad as you think. Let’s just get you cleaned up. I’ll explain. I will. Just not now.”
“Promise?”
I let out a defeated breath. “Okay.”
I attempt the help her up before she grabs a hold of the toilet again.
“Oh god, don't move me.”
An amused chuckle escapes my chest. “Okay, Princess, sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
I go and grab the blanket from the futon and walk back into the bathroom. She looks like she’s passed out again. I drop to the floor beside her and position her back to my chest. I wrap the blanket over my shoulders and envelope us both in its warmth. She mumbles something incoherent about crossing off her list. I’m not sure; she isn't making a whole lot of sense. She presses her head back under my chin and I listen as her breath falls into the steady slow rhythm of sleep. She’s going to want answers when she wakes up. I don't know if I can give them to her. But for the first time in my life, I want to. I want to tell this girl everything. I want this girl, period.
I’M DYING. THERE’S no other explanation for how I'm feeling right now. My head is going to explode, my eyes don't want to open, and I’m too hot. Way too hot. I attempt to stretch and my body is held in place. My eyes snap open, sending a blinding shot of pain straight across my forehead. I squeeze them shut for a second and then I open them again and try to focus.
There’s a large set of arms folded in my lap that aren't mine. What the hell? I turn and see I'm encased in Ethan’s arms. His head is tipped back and he’s snoring ever so lightly. I’m jammed between his body and the toilet and I need to get up and get some air. Nothing makes sense. I try to move again and my stomach rolls. I feel like I'm going to be sick. Then it hits me. Why I'm sleeping next to a toilet. The party. The drinking. The bruises. Now I really do think I'm going to be sick.
Ethan stirs and I take the opportunity to slip out of his embrace and crawl across the floor using the basin as an anchor as I pull myself up. I’m greeted with my reflection in the vanity mirror, and I wince at the sight that stares back at me. The little mascara I was wearing is now smudged under my eyes, my pale skin has a grey hue to it, and it looks as though birds could nest in my hair. My mouth feels like I've been chewing on sand and I look around to see if I can find any toothpaste. There’s a bottle of mouthwash next to the basin; I take a sip, swilling it around and around to kill the taste of stale alcohol and vomit. I pull my hair free of its tie and try to smooth it out with my fingers.
“Morning, sunshine.”
I freeze in place, not wanting to turn around and have him see the state I'm in.
“God Ethan, I don't even know where to begin…I’m so sorry that yo—”
“There’s no need to apologize, Blair, we've all been there.”
I can hear the smile in his voice and instinctively I turn towards it. He’s standing now. Shirtless. My eyes travel from his broad shoulders down to the bruises that mar his otherwise flawless skin. The deep ridges of his abs are within touching distance and I can't drag my eyes away from them. My mouth suddenly feels like a desert again and I have no clue what to say to him.
I feel awkward; full of shame that I let myself get so drunk that he had to take care of me, and full of sadness that anyone would hurt this guy. This funny, cute, amazing guy. And what’s worse, I’m pretty sure he's gonna confirm that the one doing the hurting is the one person on this planet who’s supposed to protect him.
“I should have listened to you and switched to drinking water when you said. I can’t believe you've seen me puking.” I shake my head in disbelief at this whole situation. “I’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes. I need to get home, my mom’s gonna freak that I didn’t come home last night.”
“Yeah, about that…I’m sorry. You kinda passed out in my car and I didn’t know your address. I tried waking you but you were pretty wasted.” His arms are crossed behind his neck and he’s eyeing me as if he’s unsure of himself.
“Are you seriously apologizing to me right now? I can’t bel—” I’m cut short by the sound of the pool house door swinging open and an angry booming male voice shouting Ethan’s name. It must be his dad. I watch as Ethan’s eyes widen in panic, and I’m pretty sure mine look the same.