Lucy’s out the door like a shot, stumbling through rocks and brush and God only knows what else as I stare after her in horror.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lucy
No manches. I just threw up in front of Miles.
Just breathe.
In through the nose, out through the mouth. I brace my hands on my knees, praying the worst of it has passed. The sour taste of vomit coats my mouth, and I’m pretty sure there’s puke in my hair.
And the Big Stack? Even worse coming back up.
Bile burns the back of my throat, but I can’t return to the Jeep for a drink of water.
Not yet.
Not when my stomach is still locked up tight, threatening to expel whatever’s left inside. I focus on my breathing, willing my stomach to settle.
Fat lot of good that does.
I dry heave, tears streaming down my face.
This cannot be happening. I’ve never thrown up in front of a guy I was dating before.
Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re not dating Miles.
Right. What we have is purely physical.
Still, I could’ve done without the projectile vomiting. Pretty sure that’s one of those things you can’t unsee. And now I’m probably a snotty, tear-streaked mess with nasty breath.
Delightful.
“You okay?” Miles asks, walking up behind me.
I’m not ready to face him, so I just shake my head.
“I brought you some water.”
He crouches down next to me and holds the bottle out. The top’s already been removed, so I grab it and take a huge gulp. It’s warm, but that’s the least of my worries. I swirl it around my mouth to get the yuck out and spit the water into the dirt.
No point forcing myself to swallow it down. The man’s already seen me puke.
“I also found some tissues in the glove box.” He pulls one out and offers it to me. “You really are prepared for anything.”
I laugh despite the awful situation, but that only makes snot bubble out of my nose.
Because apparently, I haven’t been humiliated enough today.
I swipe at my nose and stuff the crumpled tissue in my pocket.
“Look at the bright side,” he says, glancing at the puddle of vomit before us. “At least you didn’t end up tied to a barbecue spit.”
I cut my eyes at him, and the tips of his ears turn red.
“Too soon?”
“Little bi—”
