Page 45 of Faking Time (The Steel City #2)

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

carter

I’m a fucking loser.

Biggest, stupidest loser on planet earth.

I’m halfway through my third retch when a hand finds my back. Her fingers start making slow, comforting circles like my mother’s used to when I’d be sick with the flu and barfing my guts out.

This is the last thing that I ever wanted her to see. How fucking humiliating.

The thing is, I can’t even stop it. It’s the kind of puke that forces its way out of your body.

It gives you half a minute in the penalty box and then pushes you right back out to face the music.

I’m facing it. Miserably. The toilet bowl is splattered with red, like a fucking murder scene, and I don’t want to look at it hard enough to see what else I’ve dropped into it.

“Let it out,” Red says softly, kneeling next to me. Her hand keeps making its patterns and it’s working. The soothing feeling is actually making me feel better.

I cough a bit, dropping my head between my shoulders. “Did I ever tell you how much I hate getting drunk on wine? ”

Aw, crap. My words are slurring. I knew I was drunk, but this is next level. She just fucking kissed me. I broke down a wall with her, and now I’m yacking in a bathroom and she’s comforting me? She drank as much as me at that wine tasting, yet here I am.

“I know,” she whispers. “It’s the curse.”

I grumble something, but then another wave comes and I’m puking again.

I want to tell her to leave. I know I’m not getting another kiss in this lifetime if she keeps watching, but her touch feels too good. It makes the puking suck a little less, and I just want her here.

I always want her here.

I must have asked something, because she’s talking again. Her voice feels just as good as her hand.

“Wine curse,” she explains. “Gets the best of us. Takes no prisoners. Tomorrow’s going to suck even worse if you don’t get this out.”

I only groan in response.

“Where is your ibuprofen?” she asks, and the hand is gone from my back, and I want to cry and beg for her to put it back.

She rummages through the cupboards as I press my cheek to the toilet bowl.

I think it might be over. I might be in the clear.

I roll my head to look at her. Dressed in my clothes, beautiful red hair falling down her back. Perfect person. Perfect woman.

She pops open the pill bottle and shakes some into her hand, turning the sink tap on.

I just kissed her.

And then I threw up.

I’m a fucking idiot.

Arden kneels back in front of me. She offers a weak smile as she places a cold cloth on my head. I shut my eyes, sucking in a deep, weighted breath. Fuck, that’s good. That feels so fucking good.

Nurse Red, to the rescue.

“I hate to sound like a broken record,” she says quietly, forcing my eyes open. She shakes the pills in her hand, a sympathetic smile on her lips. “But…open up.”

I smile the best I can, and like a dutiful little dog, I open my mouth. She puts the pills in my mouth and then hands me the bottle of water. I gulp down as much as I can and let out a big, long breath.

“You finished?”

“I think so,” I mumble. I meet her eyes. “I ruined the night, didn’t I?”

She clicks her tongue. “No, you might have just won the night, because there is no way I’m letting you sleep alone when you might puke in your sleep.”

“Hm?”

“You have a cuddle buddy tonight, boyfriend,” she clarifies, and my eyes snap open to look at her. My chest fills with a boyish hope. Sleeping next to her feels like a huge fucking win. She holds out her hand, but studies my face, all concerned. “Come on. Let’s get you tucked in.”

With great effort, she hoists me to my feet and helps me all the way to my room. I can walk fine, but she keeps a steadying hand on my back, and I like it when she touches me, so I let her.

We reach my bedroom and she doesn’t bother looking around at the room she has never stepped foot in. She just rips the covers back on the bed before I can flop down onto them. When I crawl under the blankets, she pulls them over me, studying my face like she would a sick patient.

Satisfied that I’m not about to spontaneously combust, she moves to go to her side of the bed, but I can’t help it. All I keep thinking about is how we kissed and it felt real this time, and then I ruined it all three seconds later.

I reach out, taking her hand.

She stops short, glancing over her shoulder to look at me.

“Can we forget about this in the morning?”

She flinches, and I’m too drunk to realize how she might have taken that. I’m too drunk to see the hurt I just caused in those brown eyes. I’m too drunk and too stupid to notice that I just set fire to every ounce of progress I have made with her.

Arden just nods, dropping my hand, and I’m fast asleep before she’s sliding into the bed next to me.