Page 90 of Sin With Me

Wilder

Iwake up with the urge to piss and am so disoriented, I can't see where I am. Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I'm confused when I can't find it like usual.

Shit, I must've lost it at some point last night, or rather, this morning when I stumbled into my room.However long ago that was...

The clock says it's after seven but I don't remember coming home last night.

Wouldn't be the first time.

Since I can't use my flashlight, I blindly crawl out of bed. I trip over random shit on the floor and smack my toe.

"Fuck..." Hopping on one leg, I keep going until I find a door.

My eyes are barely open but the bright light causes me to close them completely. I feel around for a lightswitch to turn it off but can't find one.

It's not until the door closes behind me, I realize I'm in the hallway.A second too late.

"Dammit." I smack the back of my head against the wood, but I still need to pee, so I walk to Waylon's room and knock.

Looking down, I notice I'm only in my boxers and knock again, desperately needing him to wake up before someone sees me.

But he always did sleep like the dead.

Exhaustion takes over, so I slide down the door and wait. They'll eventually have to get up for breakfast.

“What the fuck? Wilder!” Waylon's booming voice wakes me from my nap.

Opening my eyes, I smile in relief. “Hey…finally.”

“What the hell are you doin’ out here?” he asks and then I notice Harlow standing next to him with a concerned look on her face. She's still in her pajamas, so I'm not sure how they knew I was out here if they weren't on their way out.

“I forgot my key,” I explain, trying to get to my feet.

“This ain’t your room,” Waylon tells me, grabbing my hand and pulling me up “Where’s your phone? It says your location is like on the roof or something.”

“I dunno, I lost it,” I mutter. “And I lost my key, so that’s why I came here.”

I have no idea where I put it last night because I have no memory after we left the cowboy-themed bar. We drank...a lot.

Oh fuck. Delilah. Where the hell is she?

“You wanna tell me about this?” Waylon grabs my left hand, revealing a brand-new wedding band on my ring finger.

“Oh shit…” My eyes widen, staring at it and wondering how the hell that got there. “Who’d I marry?”

If it's who I think it is?—

“Jesus Christ,” Waylon mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “My ex-girlfriend, you fucker.”

Harlow snickers.

“Delilah?” I need to hear him confirm it because there's no way she'd agree to marry me if we were sober.

“Yep,” he says.

“Fuck…she’s gonna kill me, ain’t she?” I scratch my head, contemplating what the hell I'm going to do now.

“Oh yeah…” Waylon shakes his head, crossing his arms. “I might as well start writin’ your eulogy now.”