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He looks hurt by my admission, but I don’t care. I know me. I know I would never sleep with him, not even drunk.
“We did, Willow. You said you wanted one night together. And that you’d always wanted to know what it would be like to be with me,” he explains, running his fingers through his hair.
He’s lying. I’ve never had those feelings. Ever. Hell, I see him as a brother, or I saw him as a brother. Just the thought of seeing him naked grosses me out. Now, I don’t know what to think of him. He’s nothing to me now. I also know I’d never want a one-night stand, not with him, not with anyone. It’s not in me. I’m not that kind of girl. I want intimacy, romance, and a connection before I give my body away.
The only thing I’m sure of right now is that I don’t want to be here any longer. I feel dirty all over, my skin grubby and sore. I need to get my head on straight. If only I could remember something about last night, anything that will help me make sense of all of this.
I just slept with Logan.
More tears fall, and I can’t help but clutch the blanket tighter around my body. Just having it wrapped around me, touching my bare skin, revolts me, turning my stomach inside out.
“Willow… Say something. I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to sleep with you. You were so pushy, and I had a lot to drink. I’m a lad and you’reyou.How could I say no when you were all over me? I didn’t think you’d react like this though, all frigid and scared.” He pauses, his eyebrows narrowing down. “Is it because of Alec, because you cheated on him? If it is, then he doesn’t need to know. We can keep it between us two. I swear. Can we just pretend it didn’t happen.”
There’s no point arguing with him. If I’m honest, I’m too vulnerable and scared right nowtofight with him. I don’t have a leg to stand on either because I don’t remember a thing. I also don’t think it helps that I’m hungover and my mind is all over the place.
“Sorry. Can I just have some privacy to get dressed, please?” I ask, my voice small, sounding dead.
I’m so ashamed of my actions. Not only did I act like I slut, but I also cheated. I just want to wash away the pain.
The door clicking brings me back to the present. I didn’t even hear Logan leave the room. But knowing he’s away from me relaxes me a little, some of the tension leaving my body.
Not wanting him to walk back in when I’m in the middle of getting changed, I make quick work of finding my clothes, which are scattered around the room.
My chest heaves when I come across a pillow shoved in the corner covered in vomit.
“Ahh.” I wince as I bend down to pull my underwear up. It brings a fresh wave of tears and is another reminder that everything Logan said doesn’t add up. I wasn’t even this sore when I lost my virginity.
Once I’m dressed, I open the door to his room, ready to find him, but he’s already standing outside, dressed and looking ready to leave.
“I can’t find my bag or phone,” I whisper, not meeting his gaze. I’ll never be able to look at him again. Just being close enough to smell him is making me want to gag.
He sighs, stepping towards me, and my body stiffens, like it can sense him. A cold shiver runs down my spine, alarming me.
I still don’t take a breath when he moves past me or when he comes back and hands me my bag and phone. It’s only when he puts some distance between us that I finally take in a breath.
“I’m going to go. I’ll call a taxi from outside,” I tell him, my heart breaking. It’s like I’m interacting with a stranger, not someone I’ve known all my life and once called my best friend.
“No. I’ll drive you. You’re still a little out of it. Guess you drunk more than you realised,” he says softly, but it does nothing to soothe my anxiety.
“Nah, it’s…”
“It’s fine. C’mon,” he says. I don’t bother to argue, no matter how wrong it feels to be in his presence.
I nod, following reluctantly. I used to believe he’d never hurt me, that he’d always protect me. We are,were, best friends.
I know I should believe him, trust him. Our past should be enough of a reason why. But my body and soul are screaming at me not to.
It’s not even a bad memory that has me feeling so ill towards him; it’s more like a bad feeling, one that’s rooted itself into every fibre of my being.
I just hope I can survive this car journey home before breaking down.
*** *** ***
The car barely slows to a stop before I get out as fast as my sore body will allow me. “Thanks,” I murmur.
I close the door, waiting for him to drive off, but he doesn’t. I startle when he gets out and locks the car up behind him. My body freezes in horror.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice wobbly.