“Was starting to worry about you,” he said, strumming away at the guitar on his lap. Andre had been right, Vaughan had gifts. The way he played, his ability to bring out the most amazing beautiful sounds from this instrument, was just one of many.
“Hey.” I plonked myself down on the couch beside him, head only spinning a little. Regular glasses full of water and a bowl of gnocchi with this incredibly delicious cheese and spinach sauce care of Boyd had helped mitigate the booze. A little, at least.
Vaughan picked up the notebook and pen I’d partially planted my butt on, setting it down on the floor. He did not have his happy face on. Thankfully, he didn’t have his blank face on either. His lips were a flat line, his gaze troubled.
“Let me guess, Eric invited you to stay back and sample his wares.” He resumed playing his guitar quietly. “Nell said that’s how he operates.”
“We had a few drinks,” I admitted.
“Did you fuck him?”
“Do you care?”
He licked his lips, wrinkles crossing his brow. “Guess I do or I wouldn’t be asking.”
Grace be damned. I flopped back on the sofa, leaning my head against the cushion and closing my eyes. “Is it the penis that makes you all such abhorrent shitheads? It must be. That bit of anatomy is the one real point of universal commonality between you all, isn’t it?”
Nothing from him.
I opened my eyes, rolling my head in his direction. “Do something for me?” I asked.
“What?”
“If you honestly believe there’s a chance I had sex with Eric tonight, be a good boy and shove that guitar where the sun doesn’t shine.”
His expression hardened. I daresay it matched mine. We were two angry emotional people. One of the main problems with being female, however, is our propensity for tears. Even when we’d rather not, those sucker glands get all worked up, squeezing out the salt water, making us look and feel weak when we’d rather be going medieval.
“Night.” I struggled to my feet, subtly wiping my face with one hand. Or apparently not so subtly because he immediately followed.
“Lydia, wait,” he said as his strong arms turned me, hauling me against his body. I face-planted into his chest, sniveling all the while because I’m cool like that. If only we’d kept our pelvises separated. We got along well before sex became part of the equation.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“You shut me out last night.”
“I know.”
“You disappeared on me today without a word.”
“Yeah.”
“Then you have the gall to act all entitled and pissed off over Eric?”
He rubbed his face against my hair, squeezing me tight. I had to turn my face sideways to breathe. Even then, his octopus hold made it tricky.
“Who gains entry to my pants is none of your business,” I said, stomping one foot. The foot did not appreciate it, but bad luck. “There’s no commitment here.”
“I know, I know.” A pause. “But you didn’t sleep with him, right?”
I kicked the man in the shin with everything I had. All of my pent-up rage and drunken anger. Bastard was lucky I didn’t try and break his nose. Then I shoved him off.
“Shit, Lydia.”
“Good night.”
I tried to strut to my room with style, but I’m reasonably certain I flounced. It felt like a flounce. All loose limbs and dubious morals. Slamming the bedroom door shut was also quite juvenile, but whatever. I kicked off my shoes. It took several attempts. I only fell over once, though. Go, Team Lydia!
I dealt with my black skinny jeans while still on the floor. Because let’s be honest, odds were I’d wind up back down there anyway. And go, brain, for being coherent enough to work that one out. My drunken ass was on fire, I tell you. On fire!
“What are you doing on the floor?”
I looked up to find him standing there. Uninvited. Ugh.
“Go away,” I said.
Chances were, if I attempted the removal of my work shirt and bra, I’d somehow manage to take out an eye. Best that I quit while I was ahead.
Now, time for some rest. I climbed up onto the mattress and stretched out on my back.
“Seriously, how awesome are beds? Beds are just the best.”
“Are they?” he asked.
“What are you still doing here?” I threw my pillow at him. Which he caught and replaced on the end of the bed. Pity, it was the only pillow I had and the bottom of the mattress was like miles away. Oh well, I’d just have to sleep without it. “Go away, Vaughan.”
“Christ, you’re plastered,” he muttered. “Again.”
“You and your friends are a bad influence on me.”
“Right.” He cocked his head, giving me a long hard look. Idiot male. “Are you going to throw up?”
“No.”
“How many drinks did you have?”
I held up three fingers.
“He make you cocktails?”
“Yes.” I sighed and closed my eyes, linking my fingers over my belly. “I’m not plastered, just tipsy. I drank lots of water, paced myself, and ate. Go away.”
Instead of hearing the door clicking shut, I felt the mattress shifting beneath me. Mostly on my right-hand side. I opened my eyes and sure enough there he was, sitting next to me.
“I had a lot of stuff to do today,” he said. “I wasn’t avoiding you or anything.”