My crusty eyelashes pry themselves apart as I force my eyes open. A soft whimper escapes me as I squint around the room. The dark curtains are pulled over the window, but sunlight is still sneaking in, brightening the room.
Caleb's room.
Oh no...
I weakly push aside my hair and cautiously roll over onto my back as I look around blearily. The other side of the bed is vacant, and I see a light sheet rests around my hips. Thank God for that. I'm glad my drunken bare-ass hadn't been sticking out all night. I'm usually okay with nudity, but this is Caleb here. Everything is different with Caleb.
Speaking of...how did I end up here?
My head pounds, and I grimace as I try to remember last night’s events. I went to the party and told the guys to back off.
Ashley was there.
Oh yeah, that would send me on a bender. My heart aches as I think of the memorial, but I shove it aside as I try to think back to how I'd ended up in Caleb's bed. I recall going down to the beach, and Caleb had pulled me out before the water could reach my knees. Damn. Had I really tried going into the ocean thinking it was somehow going to make things better? Talk about ludicrous. I want to remember what happened afterwards, but there's nothing there. Had we talked? What had I said last night? Uncertainty floods me.
I need to leave.
With that thought in mind, I force myself to cautiously sit up. My stomach rolls and not in a good way. I scramble out of the bed, rushing out of the room and into Caleb's bathroom. I have a moment of clarity and slam the door shut, locking it, before I drop in front of the toilet and vomit my guts out.
When I'm finished, I carefully shut the lid, flush the toilet, then rest my head on my crossed arms as I hover against the top of it. I'll wait a few minutes, and if I'm not barfing again, I should be okay to walk down to my own apartment without decorating the hall carpet or elevator with my vomit.
A soft groan escapes me. Why can't people get good and drunk without the hangover in the morning? It would make life much easier. I have no idea how long I sit there, but when I feel like I'm well enough to leave, I gingerly rise to my feet.
So far, so good.
I pluck at the tee-shirt I'm wearing, and it smells like Caleb. I briefly recall him wearing it last night. As much as I like it, I can't go down to my apartment completely naked but for a man's shirt. I wonder what he did with my clothes. I would have to ask, and just the thought of seeing Caleb has my stomach flip-flopping again. I'd planned on going in the ocean last night for some asinine reason. I don't even remember why. However, I do know Caleb well enough to know he's going to want answers.
My insides twist.
That's when I spy a flash of red in the mirror I'm standing before. I squint, my eyes narrowing on the clothes hanging over the shower curtain rod behind me. The bright red bra...
I spin around, a small yelp escaping as the world spins slightly. I grab onto the counter top and stare at the bra with horror.
“Zoey? Are you okay?” Caleb asks from outside the door.
“Uh...yeah,” I say in a strangled voice. Go away!
I'm mortified as I stare at the red lace see-through bra. I vaguely recall putting it on last night before leaving for the party. Caleb saw... Of course he saw! Who else would have stripped me down and put a tee-shirt on me before tucking me in his bed? With gritted teeth, I reach up and yank it down before my eyes shift to the other barely there scrap of red lace. At least I hadn't been stupid enough to wear the crotchless panties. I quickly grab the thong down and begin to pull on the two scraps of fabric. Yeah, totally gross. I'm guessing Caleb rinsed them out though before hanging them up to dry. They don't smell too nasty from the ocean, and they aren't gritty with sand.
After slipping on the tank and shorts, I stand in the middle of Caleb's bathroom and try to figure out how to deal with my embarrassment. The fact that he knows I'm wearing the bra he'd bought for me... I don't want him to think that I'm pining for him. In reality, that's exactly what I'm doing. But geesh, he don't need to know that.
A light knock on the door startles me. “Are you done? I'd like to talk.”
My aching head drops into my hands, and I groan inwardly. Talk? Hell, no. But I can't exactly leave his apartment without seeing him. Ugh. I have got to quit with the damn alcohol. When will I ever learn my lesson? I always end up in these awkward situations after a night of binge drinking.
I hear Caleb sigh on the other side of the door. “Will it make you feel better to know that I have no intention of grilling you about last night or anything else until you're feeling better?”
This has my hands dropping, and I stare at the door as if I can see him on the other side. “You don't?” I ask tentatively.
“No. I'm guessing you're feeling like shit. Right?”
“Yeah.”
“I'd rather talk about it when you're not hung over. Can you come out? As much as I like the wood design on this door, I don't really care to talk to it.”
I open the door and reluctantly meet his gaze before looking him over. He looks good this morning in a pale blue shirt that shows off his dark tan while jeans cover his legs. His feet are bare, and when I glance back at his face again, I see he looks alert and refreshed. His hair is damp from an earlier shower, and he smells nice and clean. He looks frickin' edible while I look like complete shit.
He smiles. “Hey there.”
I scowl. “I hate morning people.”
“Oh, I'm well aware of that,” he says as his lips twitch with bemusement. “I figured that out the morning of the handcuff fiasco. And the last time you woke up here, you wouldn't even talk to me.”
Heat spreads throughout my body as I remember the morning after our one-night stand. I try to shove it aside and concentrate on getting the hell out of his apartment. As much as I like Caleb, I feel like I'm at a disadvantage here. How much had I said last night? I'm praying it wasn't anything about Micah or him for that matter. Then there's the fact that I'm wearing his bra as if it means something to me.
“I would love to know what's going on in that mind of yours,” Caleb says as he studies my face.
“My mind would give you nightmares.”
“I don't scare easily. Nor do I run away,” he says deliberately, his eyes probing mine as if he's waiting for some kind of reaction. As if his words are supposed to remind me of something.
Alarm flickers within me, I bite my lip. “I said stuff last night?” I ask softly.
“You don't remember?”
“I remember wanting to go in the ocean and you pulling me out. That's about it.”
He nods. “We'll talk, but not right now.” His eyes flicker over me from head to toe. “Do you want to go freshen up first and then get your car, or get your car now?”
My eyes widen. “My car? I left my car at the party?”
“Well, you certainly didn't drive yourself home. You passed out on the beach.”
My baby was left out all night on the street? Around drunk people? Horror washes through me. “I have to go get her!” I walk past him and hurry down the hall and into the living room.
“Her?”
“My car! Where's your keys?” I demand as I look around, my headache forgotten.
“These?” Caleb holds up his car keys. I lunge for them, and he actually laughs at me and then tucks them in his pocket. My eyes drop to where they are hidden. “Go for it,” he challenges.
“Not likely.”
“I can see that your car comes first. I'll drive you.”
Great. Now I have to sit next to him on the way to the condo where the party had been. That means time to 'talk'.
Caleb chuckles. “You didn't really think I'd let you do the driving, did you?”
“You drive like an old fart.”
“And I’m guessing your driving will likely give me nightmares. Let's go, Sparky.”
We make our way out of the apartment building and outside to the parking lot. I squint and hold back a groan as the bright su
nlight causes my head to pound even more. As soon as I am settled in the passenger seat of Caleb's car, I close my eyes to block it out.
“You sure you're okay to drive?” Caleb asks me as he backs the car out of the parking space.
“I'll be fine.”
“We really do need to talk, Zoey,” he tells me, his tone quite serious.
“You said you weren't going to grill me,” I point out, not bothering to open my eyes.
“I'm not. When is your last class tomorrow?”
“Three-forty,” I admit a bit reluctantly.
“Mine's at three. Can we go somewhere and talk? Just you and me, no more bullshitting and stuff.”
The tone of his voice has me prying my lids apart so I can look at him. His expression is set with determination. I want to deny him this. Tell him that under no circumstances are we going to have any sort of heart to heart conversation. I don't do that shit. But I sense that if I turn him down, he'll keep at me until he gets his way. I already know that this man is about as determined as they come. I'm also realizing that since I woke up this morning, he's allowing me full control of our conversation. Caleb has two sides. One where he's willing to be passive, and the other he's controlling and aggressive. I've seen both, and right now I am thankful for the side he's giving me. Especially when I know he's got questions concerning my bout of stupidity last night.
“I'm not good with the whole talking thing. At least when it comes to serious stuff.” I need to make it clear to him that if he's got expectations, he better keep them pretty damn low.
He nods with understanding. “I know. We'll figure it out, though.”
I study him as he drives. I'm sensing another shift in our relationship.
He must feel my eyes on him, because he glances at me. “What?”
“How long have you been up this morning?” I ask out of simple curiosity.
“I don't think I really went to sleep.”
“Really?” I’m taken aback by his answer. “For not getting much sleep, you look a helluva lot better than I do,” I point out.
His lips pull into a grin. “I'm glad I'm pleasing to the eye this morning.” His lips then turn down, and he slants me a brief look. “You scared me last night. I couldn't sleep after that,” he says honestly.
“I scared you?”
His hands tighten on the steering wheel briefly as he pulls up behind my Camaro parked along a side street near the condo. He puts the car in park, and his blue eyes meet mine. “I went after you last night, because I knew you were well past your limit. When I couldn't find you in the condo, I went down to the beach in hopes that you weren't drunk enough to dare going near the water.” He shakes his head, lips tightening. “You're lucky I saw you when I did.”
“I wasn't out that far,” I say defensively.
He gives me a hard look. “You were drunk as shit. Don't take much to drown when your mind is fucked up.”
So much for Passive Caleb. My lips tighten, and I stare at the license plate on my car. “It was idiotic,” I agree reluctantly.
“Good to know you agree.”
I sigh, rubbing my temple. “I don't remember much, but I do know I wasn't out there to harm myself. I'm guessing that's what you're thinking. I wouldn't do that.”
“Wouldn't you? Do you think about it sometimes, Zoey?” he asks deliberately.
My entire body stiffens. “You said we weren't going to talk about last night.”
“Tomorrow. We'll talk tomorrow,” he agrees with a hint of frustration in his voice.
“Fine. Thanks for the ride,” I mutter before I climb out of the car. I'm about to shut the passenger door when I think better of it. Instead, I bend down and peer at him, my eyes hesitant as I meet his questioning look. “Thanks for... Um...”
His expression softens. “You're welcome. Go home and get some sleep.”
I nod and shut the door, grateful he hadn't made me spell out what my gratitude was for. It's not very often I give thanks to anyone. I appreciate the fact that he understood that it was difficult for me.
Chapter Sixteen
Monday seems normal. The guys don't seem to know about my drunken episode Saturday night, and I'm relieved. That's about the only good thing about the day. It’s hard to concentrate on classes when I know Caleb wants to 'talk' to me. I keep flipping between deciding to bail, to wanting to meet up with him because I want to hear what he has to say. I'm not a moron. I know he expects me to do a lot of talking, because going by the way he looked at me yesterday, he expects me to explain what I was up to last night. And I'm betting he wants to broach other topics that are better left forgotten.
There's also the fact that I must've said some stuff in my drunken stupor. What did I said? I'm afraid to find out, but yet I need to know so I can fix it. If I professed my feelings for him, I'm going to have to try to brush it off and claim it was the alcohol. I don't want him to know how much he's gotten under my skin. I can't believe that the man I woke up to—handcuffed to my bed—is the same man that I'm beginning to fall for. Unbelievable.
Ironically enough, when I spy Caleb waiting for me after my last class, I'm actually kind of happy to see him.
He smiles wryly. “Didn't want to give you the chance to ditch me,” he says as he falls into step beside me as we leave the building.
“Oh, trust me, I've been considering it all day.”
“You wouldn't be my Sparky if you hadn't.”
I look at him sharply as we walk down a set of stairs. “Your Sparky? When did I become yours?”
His eyes meet mine. “You've been mine for a while now.”
My eyes widen, and I trip on the last stair, almost doing a face plant in front of him.
His hand reaches out quickly to steady me. “Christ. Is that all it takes to get you to fall at my feet?” he teases. My face heats up and his eyes flicker with surprise. “Holy shit. Zoey Monohan actually blushes.”
I give his shoulder a shove and begin to walk away.
He soon catches up, and we both walk in silence to Lot 12. I'd had to park farther away today, because the usual lot I park in had been full. “I'm parked here as well. I don't suppose you'll let me drive?” he asks.
“In your dreams.”
“Oh, you've been in the driver's seat plenty of times in my dreams.”
My eyes roll, but I'm relieved we're back to teasing one another. It's better than the type of conversation I've been dreading all day. I pull out my key fob and unlock the Camaro. Caleb doesn't bother trying to argue for control of the car. Instead, he opens the passenger door and leans in to move the seat back as far as it'll go. Then he settles in, adjusting his long legs.
I settle into the driver's seat and turn on the ignition. “Where to?” I ask as I glance in my rearview mirror before backing out.
“The beach. Alamitos, if you can find a spot to park.”
I nod. “Have you talked to Micaela?”
“Once since Thursday. Her mood seems better.”
A smile curves my lips as I concentrate on navigating through traffic. “Anything with her mom?”
“No.” He sighs. “I don't think her mom's going to come around that easily.”
“We need to do something about that, Caleb.”
“We can't. You've only met Micaela twice, three times if you count Grendel's, and I'm not even supposed to be seeing her. All we can do is be there when she needs us,” he says quietly.
I glance at him, and I see that his gaze is transfixed on traffic. I turn my attention back to driving. We reach the surrounding area near Alamitos Beach, but as usual, the parking lot is full. I find a parking space not too far from the beach and we walk.
We're both quiet, and the silence isn't awkward. It's almost peaceful. The only time Caleb speaks is when he nods towards the stretch of beach in front of the condos. “Let's go down that way.”
“Okay.”
We end up in the exact area where I'd tried to go into the ocean Saturday night. I'm uncomfortable
but try not to show it. We sit down on the sand and watch as a man jogs past with a dog on his heels, its tail wagging excitedly as it trails behind its owner. I fully expect Caleb to start questioning me, but he doesn't. He simply stares out at the ocean, his expression contemplative. There is definitely something on his mind.
I'm in no mood to rush into the talking bit of this little outing, so I slip off my sandals and dig my toes into the sand. I'm feeling weary but curious at the same time. I know whatever we talk about today will once again affect our relationship. I'm not sure how, but things will change.
Caleb turns on me, his blue eyes steady with a hint of purpose evident in their depths. “I need you to trust me, Zoey. I know it’s not easy, especially after some of the things that have happened between us, but I want you to look at me as the friend I’ve been trying real hard to be for you.” His eyes focus intently on me, not allowing me to look away. “I’m worried about you. I’ve been wanting to approach you for a while now about some things, but Saturday night changed everything where you’re concerned. I’m not backing off anymore.”
“What do you mean?” I ask as alarm begins to develop within me.
“I’ve seen what you’re doing to yourself, and I have a feeling it all comes down to what happened with your brother.”
“I don’t want to go there with you, Caleb,” I say flatly as my shoulders tense up. My eyes dart to the ocean so that I can avoid looking at him.
“You have to with someone, Zoey. If not me, someone else. I’m not licensed yet, but I’ve worked the hotline enough to know that you need to talk to someone. Ace tells me you’re not close to your parents, so is there someone else that you’ve been talking to about your brother? Or have you been holding it in for three years? Because if that’s the case, you need to let it out, Zoey. Holding it in isn’t healthy. Look at what you’re doing to yourself. You could have drowned last night,” he reminds me calmly.
“Caleb, I don’t want to have this talk with you,” I try to say angrily, but instead my voice breaks slightly, and I feel myself flush with embarrassment.
He reaches out and touches the side of my face, and even though I want to pull away, I don’t. His eyes fasten on mine, and the look in them blows me away. They're filled with something I haven’t seen before. It’s warm and inviting, concerned but yet coaxing. I can see in the depths of his gaze that he cares about me. That he’s been worrying over me. “I think you do, but you’re scared. You’ve trusted me with your body, Zoey. You’ve let me hold you when you’ve been tortured by nightmares. Now trust me with the parts of you that I know are there, just waiting to be released. I don’t know why you keep everyone at a distance, but I’d really like you to try to let me in. I just want to be here for you, to help you. That’s what friends do.” His eyes peer at me with an odd fierceness. “It’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes. It’s okay to let people see you when you’re weak, when you’re suffering. It makes you human. You should know that I would never exploit your vulnerability. I will never, ever use it against you. Let down that armor you have around yourself, and put your faith in someone for once. I’m here, I want to be here. I don’t want to be anywhere else, Zoey,” he says simply.
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