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“Food would be nice.” She glimpses over her shoulder toward the bathroom. “And I might need that escort. I can’t feel my back.”
Shit.
“Fuck, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“On the contrary, you stayed true to your word.” I stare at her because I have no idea what she’s talking about. “I’ll dream about this when I’m in the nursing home with you.”
“God,” I groan, tucking my arm under hers. “I fucking hope not.”
Liv chuckles, not at all put off by my comment.
She’s…different.
Not your typical woman who wants to be praised and pampered all the damn time. I think if I had said what I did previously to Liv, to another woman, I would’ve gotten five fingers to the face.
“I think you like me, though,” she says. “But please don’t say it out loud. You might kill me.”
“You’re a weird-ass kid.” And I can’t say that I don’t because I fucked her, so she must be alright.
“No,” she replies slowly, stepping inside the door of my bathroom. “I’m not vanilla.”
sixteen
. . .
LIV
I remember having a mini freak-out session in the bathroom.
I recall peeing and sitting there going over every second of Hudson fucking me like an animal against the wall and every single sound that came out of his mouth. The way he watched himself enter me over and over again as though he couldn’t get enough.
If I didn’t think our relationship—if you want to call it that—wasn’t complicated and blundered before, it is now.
Especially when I came out of the bathroom and he was waiting for me. When he announced I didn’t have a choice and was staying to eat.
I remained at his house for the rest of the night, apparently, because I woke up tangled in dark navy blue sheets, a giant black tee Slipknot shirt that clearly isn’t mine, and my red panties still on. The bed is extremely comfortable and big as I stretch, finding myself alone, but notice that the other side is crumpled.
Hudson.
My eyes continue to scan the room. The enormous dresser, an opened closet filled with dark clothes, boots, and a few leather jackets.
I’m in Hudson’s room alright.
And the reason I didn’t know that last night was because I got plastered—thanks to the boys who thought playing beer pong with straight-up liquor and no chaser was a good idea.
I did too.
And I suck at the game.
Hudson kept close tabs on me, making me sit down for a few minutes and handing me random snacks to try and sober me up. But, surprisingly, he never once bitched at me for not being able to hold my alcohol. I only recall him telling me to be careful walking around and to bounce the ball against the table to get the small yellow ball into the boys’ cups.
Still didn’t work.
But I must’ve fallen asleep somewhere because here I am and it’s eleven o’clock?—
I jolt from the bed, almost face-planting because my legs get tangled in the sheets.
It’s Norah’s wedding today.
