I’m not sure what I’m going to do now. I know I don’t want to go back in there. But can I just leave? I came with Hailey, so I’d feel bad taking off without her. Although, she does have Drew. But still, all that lecturing her about me being worried while she’s out late will be completely hypocritical if I take off right now without even telling her. The people standing out on the porch start to eye me curiously, since I’m not just passing through like everyone else outside of their group. I see a tall guy approaching and I can tell by his blurriness that I have quite the buzz on. Undoubtedly why I reached out to Craig without thinking through the consequences. God, why did I do that?
“Hey. I’m Mark,” the tall, blurry guy says.
“Val,” I state blandly.
“You look a little lost. We’re all getting ready to play a game on this side of the house,” he gestures toward the far left end, “if you wanna come join us?”
I think about it for a minute. It kind of sounds like a trap. I should be suspicious of his intentions, but right now I just can’t seem to care. All I care about is not going back in that front door and since I can’t exactly leave, I follow Mark over to the other side of the house.
He opens a door and we’re in some type of a sunroom. It’s chilly in here, but not nearly as cold as it was outside. And to my pleasant surprise, it’s not a trap. There’s a bunch of people sitting around, circle style.
“Guys, this is Val. She wants to play too.”
Oh yeah. He said they were playing a game. I was so intent on getting away that I forgot about what else I might be getting myself into. I figure it’s kind of late now, so I sit down with everyone else.
“For the rookies who’ve never played, the rules are simple. Some of you may have played ‘Never Have I Ever’ before. This is a little different. One person will tell a ‘Don’t Judge Me, But…’ where you list something peculiar or embarrassing that you’ve done before. If someone’s done it, they drink. If no one drinks, that means you’re weird as hell so you drink. On to the next person. Got it? Everyone have a drink in hand? I’ll start. Don’t judge me but… I’ve slept with two girls in the same night.”
Almost every guy around the circle drinks. I can’t help it. I laugh out loud. I just can’t refrain from speaking my mind right now. “Bullshit,” I retort, albeit somewhat under my breath.
I can tell Mark hears me, so it doesn’t surprise me when he speaks up, “Okay, Val’s turn,” he announces with a smirk.
Shit. What the hell am I going to say? I stare blankly for a moment, thinking. Finally, I say, “Don’t judge me but… I’ve only gone to private school my whole life until now.”
Everyone eyes me suspiciously, like this is an absurd concept to them. No one drinks.
“Drink up, Val,” Mark instructs me.
I tip my drink back while everyone watches.
“Katie, you’re up,” Mark says to the girl beside me. Even sitting down I can tell she’s tall and I realize I must look ridiculous sitting beside her, like a small child in comparison.
“Don’t judge me, but… I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue.” She sits up straighter, pushing her breasts out further, flirting dramatically.
All the guys hoot and holler and then watch intently to see who else, if anyone, will drink. I debate lying and not taking a drink, and ordinarily that’s exactly what I’d do because admitting that I can do that, and that I know I can do that because I’ve tried, is a little embarrassing. But I’m feeling the buzz of the alcohol, so I own up to it and drink. When I do, the commotion gets louder. The guys around the circle go crazy and I hear a mix of reactions- some teasing, “oooo naughty private school girl,” comments, and some much harsher “what a slut!” comments. I’m pretty sure that one came from the girl sitting next to Mark, who I can only assume is his girlfriend by the way his hand keeps traveling up her leg, stopping on her upper thigh. I just brush it off so they’ll move onto the next person. And they do. Before I know it, they’ve gone around the whole circle, right back to me. I don’t even remember what I’ve taken drinks for. Although, I know I’ve been consistently drinking. Have I even been playing the game or am I just drinking to drink now? Everyone looks at me expectantly, so I think about what I can admit to. Something out of the ordinary.
“Don’t judge me but… I’ve had the same best friend for, like, eight years,” I say, estimating the time I’ve been best friends with Hailey.
Some drink and some don’t. It wasn’t a good one, but I can’t think of anything else. They move onto the next person, but I can’t focus. I can’t figure out why my hands are so cold. Why won’t they warm up? They’re so cold, I feel like they’re going to fall off. Why are my hands the only thing cold on my whole body? Why are they cold if I’m not even outside? I keep rubbing them on whatever I’m holding, but they don’t warm up at all. That’s when I realize I’m holding a cold vodka bottle. I vaguely remember someone handing it to me, but I thought I put it down and picked my red cup back up when I needed to drink. Evidently not. I probably should have stopped drinking when I realized I had a good buzz on, before even joining this circle.
Suddenly the music that’s been playing gets louder and I realize my favorite song, “Friday Night” by Lady Antebellum, is playing. I’m thankful to whoever turned it up because it instantly puts me in a better mood. I throw my hands up in the air and start shouting the words. I hear people joining in, shouting the words around me, both in the circle and out. And I feel good, the best I’ve felt all night, letting the music heal my soul and revive life into me. I go to stand up so I can dance but I almost fall right back down. I feel someone catch me from behind but instead of being grateful, it irritates me beyond belief. I just want to dance to one of my favorite songs and I feel like I’m being held back. I try to brush whoever it is off, but the arms holding me don’t give way. I don’t want to lose this feeling of happiness, so I try to stand freely again, but my legs feel like Jell-O. Every time I think I can stand, it feels like something is pushing me right back down.
“There’s too much gravity in here,” I grumble to myself in irritation.
I hear someone laugh from behind me and I start to get angrier until I see that it’s Craig. I don’t even question how he found me out here. I just relax into him, all irritation suddenly gone. I let him hold me, partly because it feels good and partly because I don’t think I could stand otherwise.
“Easy princess,” he whispers softly into my ear. When I turn around to look at him, his eyes are full of concern.
“I love this song,” I whine,” I just want to dance. Let’s dance,” I plead.
“Okay.” he agrees with a soft smile.
I try to sway my hips but I just can’t keep my balance. I feel Craig’s hands tightly holding my waist, keeping me from falling. I’m probably the world’s worst dancer right now, but I don’t care. I can feel the vibrations of my favorite song, along with the alcohol in my system. And just like that, all my inhibitions vanish.
“I just want to have fun,” I yell to him over the music. “Like really have fun. I want to be crazy for once. Do something crazy, ya know?”
He smiles back at me, still holding my waist. His eyes are sparkling, watching me so intently. Why don’t I like him? He’s a sweetheart. My knight in shining armor. I reach my arms up and lean in to kiss him. Before I can get too close though, he grabs my face and holds it firmly in place.
“Don’t,” he orders sternly, his eyes now darker. Suddenly he looks mad, or maybe just repulsed by the possibility of me kissing him.
Rejection washes through me. I feel it slowly ripple its way through my chest and I feel like I might cry but I try my hardest to hide it as I turn away.
He grabs my arm. “C’mon,” he says, his voice pleading, almost begging me not to be upset.
Suddenly, I remember him slowly pressing his lips down on Tiffany’s and I remember why he is not my knight in shining armor. I remember exactly what kind of guy he is and why I would never
want to be with him. What was I thinking? A guy like Craig Morgan is exactly the type of guy I avoid at all costs. The last thing I want to do is fall for someone who will stomp on my heart with a million different dances and not think twice about leaving it behind as he moves onto someone else’s, ready to do the cha-cha all over again.
I yank my arm free and turn to walk away. He doesn’t stop me. Even though I wanted to walk away from him, it still hurts that he doesn’t care to follow. I can, however, hear Mark yelling to me as I leave, but I don’t care. I’m done with the game. I stumble my way through the crowds, looking for Hailey. I know I can’t keep walking for much longer. I’m bumping into people and walls, grabbing onto anything I can in order to keep my balance. I’m pissed, so you’d think I’d be sober right now. But I’m already too far gone to sober up that easily.
As I pass through the living room into the kitchen, I see my feet leave the floor. At first I think I’ve fallen, but then I realize someone is carrying me. I can’t make out who it is but I know I’m not being carried in a nice way. I’m not being cradled like a baby; embraced and taken care of. Instead, I’m thrown over someone’s shoulder and I can only see the back of them. That’s the last thing I remember.
I wake up comfortable, although slightly nauseous, slowly opening my eyes and trying to make sense of my surroundings. I see a poster that doesn’t look familiar at all. It has a skull and weird patterns and the words, “Don’t Say So” on it. A band? A logo? I don’t know. I stretch in the bed I’m in and I realize I’m way too comfortable to be in my tight jeans. I’m praying for a pink comforter; something that tells me that a girl put these sweats on me, but when I look down I see blue and grey plaid. That’s when I start to panic. I jump out of bed, try to ignore the spinning sensation from moving too fast, and look myself over. I still have my bra and tank top on that I wore last night, but the sweat pants aren’t mine. They’re huge, so most likely a guy’s. What did I do? What happened last night? I have a pounding headache so I know I drank too much. But how did I manage to drink so much that I can’t even remember whose room I’m in?
Just as I’m thinking that, a guy walks in. I have no idea who he is. My heart starts beating out of my chest. He’s extremely thin, with piercings all over his face and tattoos all over his skin. I don’t remember the last time I was this scared. He nods in my direction and keeps walking. I’m frozen in place. I can’t even open my mouth to ask questions. He grabs a wallet off of the other bed in the room and walks right back out. I let the breath out that I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. Then the door opens again and a guy walks in with only a towel on. Not just any guy – Craig. He runs another towel through his wet hair as I stare in disbelief.
When he looks up, his eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, Princess. You’re awake.”
“What the hell?” I whisper.
He approaches me like he would a cornered dog, hands held up and everything. “I know this looks bad,” he starts, “but Hailey changed you into sweats. I just came from the showers because I thought you’d still be sleeping. You had a lot to drink last night.” When I don’t respond, he asks, “Did Erik wake you up?” He looks at me, waiting for an answer, but I still don’t respond. My head is spinning trying to take it all in. I can tell my hesitation worries him by the way his eyebrows crease. “Are you alright?” He finally asks.
I let a deep breath go. “I’m actually relieved,” I whisper, my voice shaking. I don’t know why I’m about to cry. I mean, I guess I know why. I was thinking the worst case scenario. Stranger’s room, different pants. I know why I’m shaken up, but I don’t want to cry. I’m not that weak girl who cries. I’m mad at myself for even feeling like I might cry, which actually makes me cry because as ironic as it is, I cry when I’m mad.
“Come here,” he says softly, beckoning me over.
Of course I don’t, but he walks over to me and I can’t keep it together anymore. I fall into his arms and burst into tears, feeling every bit like the baby that I am. He’s naked from the waist up and he’s dripping wet, but I don’t care. It’s not uncomfortable at all. It’s not sexual, just comforting. And I feel anything but sexy right now, as I’m bawling my eyes out and reeking of alcohol from last night. I was terrified and now I’m relieved, but I’m also ashamed and feeling two feet tall. He brushes my hair with his fingers and shushes me quietly. It makes me feel even more like a baby, so I gently but deliberately push him away. He reluctantly releases me and I immediately turn around to hide my day-old mascara-smeared face. I wipe my cheeks and under my eyes before I turn back.
“What happened?” I ask him in a cracked voice.
“Nothing, I swear,” he insists adamantly.
“I mean, last night. The whole night. I can’t remember,” I admit. I turn back around to face him and I’m sure the shame is written all over my face.
He nods his head in understanding. “Nothing happened. You just drank too much. I found Hailey and Drew and we all walked here because my dorm was the closest.” He laughs without humor, “You were in bad shape, Princess. You couldn’t even walk. So when we got here, I put you in my bed, and Hailey changed you out of your jeans and into a pair of my sweats. Drew and I left the room for that, of course.” He smirks at that last part, looking almost embarrassed. “Hailey argued that she wanted to stay here with you but I figured there was no need. You were out for the night. Completely passed out. Might as well give her and Drew the room to themselves.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “I slept on the floor, by the way. You’re not that attractive when you’re unconscious.” I know he’s trying to lighten the mood, so I smile.
“I guess I should thank you then.’
“I guess you should,” he says with raised eyebrows, waiting for me to actually say it.
“Okay,” I oblige, rolling my eyes, “thank you.” Then I add more sincerely, “Really, I mean it. When I woke up in this room and your… roommate?... walked in, I panicked. Last night could have been really bad. I don’t even remember half of it. Anything could have happened.” I pause, and then add with a smirk, “For once, I’m glad you were there.”
He smiles back. “So, you said you remember half of the night?”
“Yeah, bits and pieces of the beginning. How did I get so drunk? I don’t even drink. I mean, barely ever.”
“Do you remember when you first saw me last night?” he questions seriously, his usual smirk gone.
I know what he’s getting at. And I do remember. I remember thinking he was upset. And I reached out to him. I remember hugging him and having a moment with him. But I’m not sure I want to admit that to him. “Umm…”
“C’mon, princess. You remember,” he says softly.
“I thought you were going to stop calling me princess.” I attempt to change the subject.
He blows it off like I didn’t say anything at all. “You remember,” he insists.
“Okay, yes. I remember,” I reluctantly admit.
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Stop,” he demands. “Look at me. You know what I’m asking. Why?”
Suddenly, I’m having a hard time looking at him when he’s only wrapped in a towel from the waist down and dripping water. I just can’t. And yet, I can’t help myself. For the first time, I notice a tattoo on his bicep. It’s not a huge one that covers his whole upper arm, like a lot of guys have. It only takes up one spot on his upper shoulder. I try to make out what it is, but all I can see is that the whole of it is a puzzle piece. There’s a lot of intricacies inside it that I can’t make out without staring. I look away, for fear of being caught and try to ignore the rest of him by looking only into his eyes, but that doesn’t help much either. His eyes are soft, begging for me to answer. I sigh loudly, “I thought you were upset. I thought you needed comfort, I guess. It was stupid and I had a buzz and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, okay?”
“Don’t be sorry,” he insists. “How did you know I was upset?”
“Were y
ou?”
He shrugs his shoulder like it’s no big deal, and I can tell that’s as close to a ‘yes’ as I’m going to get. So I wasn’t imagining it.
“Why?” I ask.
“Do you really care?”
I think about that question for a moment. As much as I’d like to say no, I can’t. “Yes.”
His eyes turn molten at my admission. I can tell he wants to open up to me. But then his expression changes and his eyes cloud over. “Just some family stuff. Nothing too important. Just a bad day,” he answers, being as vague as possible.
I can’t hide my disappointment. But I know I shouldn’t be surprised. Did I really think Craig Morgan was going to open up to me? Has he ever opened up to anyone before? He’s the typical bad boy type. He lets you see inside him just enough for you to think there’s something worthy under his rough exterior. Then he shuts you down and goes back to being as cold as ice.
“Okay…Well, I’m sorry for making your night worse,” I say. “I’m sure babysitting wasn’t in your plans.”
“Princess, watching you sleep in my bed was the best part of my night.”
This would be incredibly sweet if he didn’t have that half-grin on his face that tells me that he meant it in a smutty way.
I inwardly scream at how frustrating he can be, but I don’t let him see how he gets to me. “I should be going,” I simply say. “Thanks again.”
“Wait. Let me get dressed and I’ll walk you.”
“No, that’s alright. I can manage.”
Chapter 6
The weeks pass miserably. Ever since that night, Tyler avoids me. And Tiffany, who happens to work at the Grind where I go daily, shoots me death looks every time I see her. She has a friend on the cheering squad, so I get some backlash there too. I don’t understand. Nothing happened between me and Craig. I don’t know why she hates me. A few months ago, I thought seeing Craig working at the Grind everyday was going to be frustrating. Now, I sigh in relief when it’s him taking my order instead of Tiffany.
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