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“Hello?” Arlo answers. His brow furrows and his lips turn down into a scowl as he listens intently to whoever is on the other end of the line. “Okay, thanks,” he says after a moment, ending the call and sliding his cell back into his pocket before turning to Tally. “Your parents just scheduled their flight home; they’ll be here by lunchtime tomorrow.”
An intense silence fills the room as we all glance around the table, waiting for someone else to speak.
“Should we leave?” Priss asks, looking at me, then turning to Arlo and Tally.
“Fuck them, let’s drink the rest of the champagne, order pizza, and make the house smell like cheese and empty calories,” Tally says, forcing an obviously fake smile to her lips.
Scoffing lightly, I smile at her and nod. “I agree, let’s stay up late, get drunk, and watch a bunch of movies, we can even order in Indian food, the smell of that lingers for days, then we’ll clear out in the morning before they get here.”
“This was getting boring anyway,” Wats cries.
“We get to really start playing with them once they’re back,” Olly says.
Lifting his mug into the air, Arlo gestures for us all to follow suit. “Let the games begin.”
11
Carrigan
Light filters through my eyelids and I groan, rolling away from Carson as a wave of nausea hits me. After the fourth bottle of champagne we opened I lost count, but with the way my stomach is roiling and my head is pounding I know I drank far too much last night.
Carson stirs next to me, his soft chuckle alerting me that he’s much more awake and alive than me. “How you feeling baby?”
“Urgh,” I growl.
“Come here,” he says, reaching for me and pulling me into his warm, naked chest. “Champagne, Indian food, pizza, and ice cream is not a good mix,” he laughs.
“I’m pretty sure I’m about ninety percent dead,” I whine, slowly blinking my eyelids open. Tilting my head back, I find his soft amused eyes looking down at me, his hair ruffled and sexy. “How can you look good?” I ask.
“This wasn’t my first rodeo. Is this your first hangover?”
“My head’s pounding and I think I’m going to puke. Is that what a hangover feels like?”
A low rumbling laugh vibrates through his chest and he nods. “Yeah baby it is. Come on, a shower will help.”
Lifting my head from his chest, he crawls off the bed and stands by the side, holding his hand out to me. “I can’t move,” I groan.
“You need me to take over?” he asks, indulgent laughter lacing each word.
“Yes,” I cry dramatically, lifting my hands into the air.
Leaning down he slides his arms beneath me and lifts me off the bed, cradling me to his chest as he encourages me to wrap my arms and legs around him.
Resting my head against his shoulder, he carries me into the bathroom, placing me down on the counter as he turns on the shower and then strips off his underwear. I glance down at myself, I’m wearing his shirt and nothing else, I know my hair must be a mess and I doubt I took my makeup off last night, but from the way he’s looking at me, I know he doesn’t care.
He doesn’t care that I look at mess, he doesn’t care that I’m hungover and probably smell like stale pizza. He doesn’t care that I ate so much last night my mom probably felt the disturbance in the universe and is already itching to make me purge it all from my body. He doesn’t care that I’m not perfect, in fact I think he likes me because I’m not.
Smiling, he pads across the bathroom, sliding his hands along my thighs, lifting his shirt up and over my head until I’m naked, my body unashamedly on display for him, “You’re so fucking beautiful, Priss,” he whispers, as he lifts me up and walks us under the warm stream of water.
“Turn around,” he quietly orders the moment he lowers me to my feet.
I do as I’m told, closing my eyes and luxuriating in the moment as he washes my body, then my hair, he even brushes my teeth for me, then he wraps me in a huge fluffy towel and dries my skin, eventually taking my hand and leading me back into the bedroom.
Sighing, I sit down on the edge of the bed and he sinks to his knees on the floor in front of me. “Feel better?”
“Much,” I whisper, leaning forward to press a kiss against his lips.
Pulling back, he cups my cheeks with his palm. “You ready to deal with your parents?”
