"I was a brownie, you jackass." My foot stomped. "Seriously Keegan, where is my bag?"
"I'm not really sure. I didn't have the chance to get it last night." Meaning it was most likely still over at Cora's house. I needed to talk to her or Gabby ASAP to figure out what all went down at the party because there was no way I was going to embarrass myself asking him questions I didn't necessarily want the answers to.
"Did you happen to grab my phone from Cora's car?"
"No, sorry," he answered, leaving the doorway and walking over to the dresser. He grabbed his phone, putting it to his ear. "Yo, we need Daisy's shit and phone. Ask Cora if she knows where it's at." Tapping the screen, he ended the call and walked back to the bed, throwing it down on his nightstand. "I just left Lane a message but they are probably still passed out," he looked over at me. "Which is exactly what we should be doing since it's eight in the fucking morning and we were up all night. We'll get your stuff when he calls back but for now get your ass back in bed." He crawled back under the covers, covering the bottom half of his body.
He must have still been drunk from last night if he thought I was getting back into that bed with him after what had just happened. I was terrified my body would betray me again and I would rape him in my sleep or something. Lack of affection is bad for a girl.
"Look, I'm sorry," he said, noticing my immobile body. "You were rubbing that hot little body all over me. I'm a guy, of course I am going to react."
I stood there staring at the floor, pondering the few options I had. Going home and having to explain why I didn't have my phone or bag was out of the question. I massaged my fingers through my hair at the feeling of my brain expanding through my skull and let out a deep yawn.
"Do you have a guestroom or anything?" Problem solved. I could get a few more hours of sleep in a half naked Keegan-less bed while we waited for Cora to call us back.
"Seriously?" He asked incredibly, propping his elbow down on his pillow to hold his head. "Get in the damn bed. I'm tired and Theo will lay between the two of us to make sure there are no wondering hands." Theo barked once in affirmation, peering up at me and jumping back on the bed. His head fell down on the pillow next to Keegan. "It's early and neither one of us have gotten any sleep."
Sighing, I walked back around the bed hesitantly, watching Keegan smile in his victory. Creeping in under the sheets, I wrapped the warm blanket around my body before drifting back into a deep sleep.
“KEEGAN,” I whispered, shaking him in order to get his attention but he continued to snore. I was going to murder whoever kept calling. I studied him sleeping, his arm was covering his eyes and giving me a full view of his bare chest. The words, ‘still I rise,’ were scrawled across his chest.
The phone rang again, causing me to shake him once more, but still getting nothing. “Keegan!” I finally screamed, losing every ounce of patience. He jumped up at the sound of his name.
“What?” He asked, eyeing me curiously.
I pointed to the ringing phone.
“Fuck,” he groaned, twisting around to answer it without looking at the caller. “What?” His scratchy voice asked the person on the other end. “Goodbye Piper.” He tossed the phone back on the table and looked back at me. Of course, Piper was blowing up his phone while I was laying in bed with her fuck buddy. “That chick drives me fucking nuts. Did you sleep better?”
“I guess.” I tucked my head under my clasped hands on the pillow and tried to look away from his body, but I couldn’t help myself when he lifted up to stretch again and the covers moved down.
His laughter filled the room and I quickly looked away from his body to his face.
“You like what you see?” Ignoring him, I rubbed the tiny fellow beside me. “I’ll take that as a yes. Damn, I like the way we woke up much better than this one.” His hands rolled into balls rubbing his sleepy eyes as I mentally rolled mine. Of course, he did.
"Don't hold your breath for that to be happening again," I warned, smacking his arm. The furry guy I was petting flipped over on his belly, begging for it to be scratched and I obliged. "So Theo is a pretty masculine dog you've got here."
I took in the critter rolling around beside me on his back. He couldn't have weighed more than eight pounds.
"Theo is actually my mom's Yorkie, but I take care of him when she's gone.” He gave the dog a tiny pat on the belly. “He may be a tiny squirt but he sees a badass Rottweiler when he looks in the mirror. Don’t ya boy?” I had to admit it was cute to see how affectionate he was towards the little guy. “He’s my little sidekick.”
"Oh geez, please don't corrupt the dog.”
"Theo is the perfect gentleman.” Theo lifted up on his legs to lick Keegan across the cheek.
"Come on," he pulled himself out of bed, holding his arm out to me. "Let's get you something to eat. It's lunch time and I'm pretty sure you puked out everything in your stomach last night." My stomach growled out at the mention of food, answering his question. I rolled out of the bed, ignoring his hand, and he shook his head at me.
"You know how to cook?" I asked, squinting my eyes at him.
"Hell yeah! I've been feeding myself for as long as I can remember." He picked up Theo in his arms. "Call me Chef Boy Keegan, baby." He walked out the door laughing and I followed him down the wide stairway.
"YOU READY to give me some credit now?"
I crouched in the stool in front of the kitchen island watching Keegan load our dishes into the dishwasher. He had made us French dip sandwiches so they could "soak up the alcohol I regurgitated last night." His words, not mine. I hated to admit it, but he was right. It helped ease the nausea that had been lurking around in my stomach since the moment I woke up.
Thankfully, he was now wearing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt since I refused to eat anything until he put some clothes on.
His ego didn't need to be stroked anymore than it was already but I had to give credit where credit was due. "Ugh, fine," I groaned out. "You are a fantastic sandwich maker." I grabbed the towel in front of me and I tossed it at him, hitting his chest.
"About damn time I got a compliment from you. It only took what? A month." He shut the dishwasher with his knee, wiping his hands on the towel.
"You have entirely too many girls handing you compliments without having to worry about mine."
"Was that yet another compliment?" he asked, leaning into the counter.
"Absolutely not. Where did you even learn to cook like that?"
"My mom is always gone so it was either keep eating shitty fast food or learn to cook. So I taught myself to make a few things." I still hadn't seen his mom since I'd been here. She was always out of town. His phone rang and he looked down at the caller ID this time.
"About damn time you called you called back," he said, holding the phone to his ear. My fingers were crossed that it was either Lane or Cora on the other end. His head nodded a few times, listening to whatever the person on the other end was saying. "Yeah, where's her bag?" Jackpot. "I'll let her know and text you."
Ending the call, he tossed his phone down on the counter. "They are having lunch at Cora's with her parents. We can go pick up your bag from her house or he said they could drop it by when they're done." I wanted to get my bags and get out of there, but I could only imagine what Cora's parents would think if I showed up at their place with Keegan, grabbing my night bag from the place I didn't stay last night.
"Just tell her to drop it off whenever they are finished." I hated how my stupidity was a burden to everyone else because I couldn't handle my alcohol. I looked up at him. "I mean if that's okay with you. If you have something going on, I can go get it now."
"You can hang out here all day if you want." I surprisingly felt myself smile like I hadn't in months. I wasn't sure if it was the affection withdrawals loving it or if my heart liked hearing a guy who was a raging asshole to everyone say something so nice to me. I stared into his eyes, unable to break away, but I wasn't the only one. He responded, p
eering into mine with those luminous emeralds. It was like one of those cheesy insta-love movies people (including me) shake their head at and make fun of. He was the first to break away, running his hands down his head and shaking it.
"I'm thinking a movie while we wait," he said, walking around the island and grabbing my hand. "I'll be a gentleman and let you pick the movie." Our hands interlaced and he dragged me out of the kitchen into the living room. "Get comfortable. I'll go grab a few movies and a blanket." He put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down on the large, white sectional before leaving the room.
I shifted around on the couch, but it was about as comfortable as an ironing board. I finally got somewhat comfortable and leaned back against the cushion. "Alright," he called out, walking back into the room with an arm full of DVDs and a blanket. "I have Titanic because for some reason chicks think it's romantic to see their apparent ‘love of their life’ die in front of them or something." He held up the DVD in front of him, showing me the cover, completely clueless how his words affected me.
Every muscle in my body locked up and I instantly pulled my legs into my chest, forming a ball to create my own, private barrier. Air punched from my lungs as my breathing began to grow shallower. I counted to ten like my therapist had trained me to do whenever this happened, but it wasn't working. My heart was pressing harder into my chest and I got slightly panicky. My hands slid up my face to cover my embarrassment and I slid it in between my knees, just in time for the first tear to slip through my eyelashes.
"Shit," I overheard Keegan curse and the couch dented in beside me. "Are you okay?" I couldn't see him, but I caught the concern in his voice. Keeping my face masked, I nodded slowly. Was I always going to be a damn basket case? My body flinched at the gentle touch of his hand running down my crouched back while the tears flooded faster. His hands massaged my back, moving his hand in small circles.
"It's okay," he murmured softly, into my hair. "I’ll be right back," he said, wrapping his hand around my arm and giving it a small squeeze. I exhaled at the loss of his touch, tucking my body into itself tighter.
"Daisy," he said when he got back. "Look at me real quick, babe." He grabbed my chin with two fingers and lifted my head up to look at him. I blinked away the wetness in my eyes, seeing him kneeling in front of me, worry lining his features. "Are you okay?" He asked again, stroking his fingers across my tingling cheek. God, I was so sick of people asking me that foolish question.
I nodded, though, like I always did. Giving me a forced, fake smile, letting me know he knew I was lying, he twisted around and grabbed some tissues behind him before handing them over. I grabbed them, roughly trying to wipe away the evidence from my breakdown.
"Take this," he ordered, appearing in front of me again with a glass of water and two white pills. "I should have given this to you earlier, but I'm a sucky nurse." I studied the pills he put in my hand. "It's ibuprofen," he assured me.
I popped them onto my tongue and swallowed them. He gave me a warm smile and took it from my hand before setting it down on the table. "You wanna talk about it?" He asked, scratching his cheek.
I shook my head, looking away from him. I never wanted to talk about it and that was my problem. "Not Titanic," I said lightly, squirming in my seat.
"I don't blame you," he said, standing up and grabbing the blanket. "I hate that movie, too. Everyone knows there was plenty of room for Jack on that door." His large hands wrapped around the blanket, sprawling it along my still-trembling body. I gave him a sore smile and snuggled into the warm cotton of the blanket.
"Alright then, I also grabbed some horror movies since it's Halloween time and all," he announced.
I grunted. "Please tell me your ‘horror movies,’" my fingers lifted into the air to emphasize the words, "are not Saw or The Wrong Turn because those aren't real horror movies."
His nose wrinkled and he held up Saw. "I beg to differ," he said, tapping his finger against the case. "How could you possibly say this is not a horror movie? I'm pretty sure being forced to play a game where you either had to saw off your own foot or die categorizes itself as a scary movie."
"It's gore," I threw out. "So called horror movies these days just put as much blood and gore as they can and then try to call it a scary movie." My finger waggled back and forth in front of me. "No."
His eyes twinkled in amused interest. "Okay, Ms. Scary Movie Connoisseur," he bowed his head down to me. "Please tell me what movies are Daisy classified as authentic horror movies."
"The classics," I answered, leaning forward to take a drink of water. "Halloween, Friday The 13th, Scream and The Exorcist. Those are the real scary movies."
"Well, lucky for you," he said, grabbing a few from the stack. "I've got three out of four here, so take your pick." He held them up on and I pointed to the middle one.
"Buenos choice," he smiled, opening up the case and loading the disk into the player. "Jason was always my favorite, too. It also taught me a very valuable lesson."
"And what could that possibly be?"
"Never have sex with chicks in the middle of the woods in a tent." He shot me a grin at the same time I rolled me eyes. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the gigantic TV in the front of the room and crashed down on the other side of the couch. Suddenly, I felt a tug on my blanket when the opening credits started to roll.
"You going to share?" He challenged, and I twisted around, giving him a stern look. Snickering, he held his hands up. "I promise. No funny tricks." Shaking my head, I grabbed the end of the blanket and flipped it his way. He captured it, chuckling, and snuggled his head towards me. We both then turned our attention to the first death at good ol' Camp Crystal.
Ever since I was young, I have been obsessed with the classic scary movies. My mom always blamed it on my dad because he would let me stay up late with him after trick-or-treating every year and watch them with him. He liked to refer to it as our "father daughter bonding time."
I caught a glimpse of Keegan from the corner of my eye about thirty minutes into the movie. Instead of watching the movie, he was staring at me with his lips pressed together.
"What?" I asked, catching him off guard.
"This is actually pretty fun," he answered.
Huh? "Being with me or watching the movie?" I asked, looking at him with uncertainty.
He shrugged. "Watching a movie with someone else."
My body angled towards him. "You've never watched a movie with someone?"
With Lane and shit, yeah," he responded, running his hands through his messy hair. "But never with a girl. I mean, sure, I would play movies but I always referred to them as background noise. We never exactly, um, watched the movie." His brows furrowed at the last sentence.
"Okay, that's just sad," I teased, picking up a pillow and tossing it at him. "Now, let's give you your first real experience then. Quit watching me instead of the movie.”
“YOU GOING home for Thanksgiving?” I asked Daisy, pulling up to her house.
“Actually, no, my parents are coming here this year,” she answered, stretching her legs out on the floorboard. "Is your mom going to be home?"
Daisy and I had started a friendship after the whole party/ dry humping/ crying debacle. We didn't necessarily hang out with each other on our free time, but our arguments had turned into conversations and tiny jokes during our car rides and Health. I enjoyed my friendship with her, and as much as I was attracted to her, I hooking up with her was a bad idea. It would fuck up everything we had built the last month and I liked having her around. I didn’t want Daisy to end up hating me in the end.
"Eh, I wouldn't count on it," I shrugged, making it known I didn't give a shit. "I usually just chill out at home or go over to Lane's."
"But isn't he going to Cora’s'?"
"I think so," I said, my voice flat. "So I'll probably just hang at home."
"What about your dad?" She rushed out quickly. The fact that she was curious about him didn't surprise me. What did sur
prise me, though, was that she hadn't already heard all of the rumors about my family already.
I let out a hard laugh. "Even if I knew who the arrogant asshole was, I wouldn't count on him inviting me over for a holiday dinner." I stopped asking my mom about my dad years ago after she finally made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her or me.
"Why don't you come over and have dinner with us," she said, blowing out a breath suddenly. "I know that my aunt and uncle wouldn't mind. For some weird reason, they actually like you."
I chuckled. "Funny little shit, you are. Everyone likes me, including you. But it’s okay, you don’t have to admit it." She smiled. "Thanks for the invite, but it's cool," I answered, brushing off her invite. I hated having people feel sorry and pity me. Sympathy invites weren't really my thing.
I had surpassed the point where I cared who my dad was, deciding I was better off without him anyways. The asshole had been absent my entire existence, so I wasn't waiting for him to step up to play father of the year anytime soon.
"You're coming," she insisted. "Consider it payback for all the rides and calorie ridden drinks you bring me."
I squeezed out a fake smile. "I'll think about it."
"Please," she stressed, clutching her tiny hands together.
"Okay, fine," I gave in, rubbing the back of my neck, unable to resist her cute begging. I could find a way to back out later.
Her eyes twinkled in triumph. "You promise?"
I nodded. "I promise."
"I take promises very serious, Keegan." With that, she opened up the car door and disappeared down the drive.
“KEEGAN!” SOPHIA screeched, opening up the front door. “I was sooo happy when Daisy said you were coming!” After internally debating whether to show up or not, I caved. I didn’t owe her anything, but her words kept burning into my brain. I take promises very seriously.
My original plan had been to grab some Chinese takeout. Those places were always open on Thanksgiving. It wasn't the first time I had spent the holiday by myself and I was positive it wasn't going to be the last, either. The only time I had ever had a real Thanksgiving dinner was when I would go over to Lane’s. Even though he was going over to Cora's this year, I knew if I told my aunt I had nowhere to go, she would prepare some huge ass meal just for me and I didn't want her to stress over it.
Beneath Our Faults Page 8