Page 151 of What Goes Around

Why couldn’t I remember anything?

And why, why was Apple in that bed?

The thought made me gag again.

I looked down at myself, dazed, disconnected. My thighs were smeared with dried semen.

My vision went white.

I thought I was done vomiting. I was wrong.

I dry heaved again, nothing coming up, just my body revolting against itself. Panic slammed into me, heavy and crushing. My chest tightened, breath coming shallow and fast. I felt cold all over, shock settled in heavy and suffocating.

I stayed there for a long moment, forehead pressed against the cool porcelain, breathing like I’d just run for my life.

Eventually, I forced myself upright, using the sink cabinet to pull myself up. I looked in the mirror.

The man staring back at me looked wrecked.

Bloodshot eyes. Pale skin. Sweat plastering my hair to my forehead. Jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

I looked like absolute shit.

Movement came from the other room.

My stomach twisted again.

I staggered out of the bathroom.

Apple was sitting up in bed, the sheet pulled up over her chest. Thank God for that. I don’t think I could have handled seeing her naked without throwing up all over the floor.

She stared at me, shock flashing across her face.

“What the fuck happened?” I demanded, my voice hoarse, cracked.

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” My head throbbed with every word. “Why am I here? Why can’t I remember anything? Did you drug me? Did you—”

The word stuck, bitter on my tongue.

“I had one drink,” I forced out. “One. And I don’t remember anything after that.”

Fragments tried to surface. A hotel ballroom. Work people. A conversation. Laughter. Then nothing.

Her face crumpled instantly.

“What?” she cried. “No. No, Nick, I don’t remember either.” Tears welled up quickly, spilling over. “I think someone drugged me. I would never have… I would never have slept with you otherwise. I’m not that kind of girl.”

My head pounded too hard to think straight.

Was she saying I had raped her?

Everything felt slow, muffled, unreal.

“Maybe we should go to the police,” she said softly. Then hesitated, her voice dropping. “But if we do… everyone will know. The media. Your family. My family.”

My mind raced, spiraling.