Page 35 of His Good Girl

Pain. The first thing that registers in my brain as I wake up is the dull pulsing throb behind my eyes, like someone is playing a drum on the inside of my skull. My mouth tastes like shit and my tongue is plastered to the roof of my mouth. Shifting, I'm hit by the chill of cold tiles against my bare skin. I try to push up, but my arm is numb from where it was pinned beneath me. My joints ache and the small octagon pattern of the floor tiles is etched into my skin. A groan escapes my lips but I quickly suppress it as even that brings pain to my throbbing head.

With a lot of effort, I finally peel my eyes open, feeling like they’re filled with sand. The bright lights of the bathroom are near blinding and send more pain ricocheting through my head. I’m curled on the bathroom floor, my body curved around the base of the toilet, and the cherry on top of this lovely wake up is that I'm completely naked. I drag myself into a sitting position and the room spins, not violently like last night, but enough to make me pause and send my stomach into my throat.

Taking slow deliberate breaths, I sit for a second until things settle. Standing on shaky legs, I turn to face the mirror and cringe. My hair is a wreck, more of a ratted side pony now. My mascara is smeared across both cheeks, and lipstick is smudged all around my mouth. Lovely, I look like a crack whore, or some kind of bog troll, or an ungodly combination of both.

Stepping into the shower, I moan deeply as the warm water washes away the aftermath of way too much alcohol. The night starts coming back to me in bits and pieces. Ugh, I drank way too much and feel like shit. But on the plus side, I appear to be alone, and it doesn’t feel like I had random drunk sex, so I guess all in all, the night was a win. Well, minus the whole sleeping on the bathroom floor naked bit.

Remembering that Marcee left the bar with some rando, I search for my phone to check on her, kicking myself for being too wasted to think of it last night.

It takes three tries to unlock my phone, which is promptly dropped when I see the missed calls, texts, and voicemails all with Jax’s name on them. “No! No, no, no, no, no, no!” Fucking shit, I scroll through the texts and see that I texted him at three in the morning asking if he wants to fuck. Well, fuck me sideways. Luckily, I didn’t give him my new address so he wasn’t able to find me. His texts go from flirty to pissed off very fast, then the voicemails start and get increasingly unhinged.

I delete his messages and call Marcee.

“Hello…” She sounds like shit and I smile in spite of myself.

“How ya doing, Marce?”

“Never let me drink that much ever again.”

“Only if you do the same for me. Want to grab coffee later?”

“Why don’t you come down here and I'll order it in. I'm not leaving this apartment all day.”

“Deal.”

Pulling on baggy sweats and a ratty old T-shirt, I make my way to Marcee’s place. I check my phone again, pulling up my chats with Finn. There are no new messages. My heart sinks. Some part of me had hoped he would come back for me. But the silence is all the proof I need to know it is well and truly over. I have a new email from my dad's assistant with his updated itinerary. Gee, thanks for the email proof of his abandonment.

My legs feel as heavy as my heart. Each step is an effort. I almost turn around and go back to my place, but Marcee is already at her door, holding out a mug of coffee for me. Taking it, I step into her place and plaster on what I hope is a convincing smile.

I should have known Marcee wouldn’t be fooled. As soon as I drink the coffee and dig into the pastries she ordered, she gets serious with me.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell happened yesterday?”

“What do you mean?” I don’t have the energy for this.

“I mean, you have spent the last few months saying you’re cutting down on partying. Then last night, you drank more than I have ever seen you drink, Lexie. It was like you were on a mission to drown yourself.”

Unbidden tears well up in my eyes. “Marcee, things are such a freaking mess. I don’t want to get into details. But I kinda, sorta, met a guy recently. He’s smart, sexy, and perfect, really.” Guilt washes over me knowing she has no clue it’s her dad I'm talking about.

“Wait. Stop. Rewind. How is this the first I'm hearing about this guy?”

“I met him at a club and didn’t know if it would go anywhere. Then we only saw each other sporadically, then it heated up but we never defined what it was, and I was scared to jinx it.” Taking a deep breath to quiet my mind, I start again, “But none of that matters. When I asked for a commitment, he turned tail and ran. Then right after he walked away from things, literally as that was imploding like the Hindenburg, my dad texts me to tell me he changed his mind and was leaving town. He was already at the airport when he texted me, Marcee.” The tears I had been desperately trying to stem begin flowing freely now.

Her warm arms come around me, holding me and just letting me be. I give in and let myself wallow for a few minutes before pushing all the feelings into that little box where I store all the hurts and rejections.

“Okay, enough of that.” I sit up, turning fully toward her. “Now, it’s your turn.”

“Me?” She looks panicked. “What about me?” Her cheeks are turning bright red and I smile in spite of the gaping hole in my heart.

“Marcee Walker? Did you have a one-night stand last night?”

“Uh, no. I brought your drunk ass home then went to bed alone.”

Wincing, I hide my face. “Sorry! Okay, had I not been a disaster would you have left with that guy?”

Covering her face with her hands, she nods. The squeal that leaves my lips has us both cringing and gripping our heads.

“Did you get his number? Call him later and have him over tonight. Don’t let me be a cock block, baby.”