“Of course I was. You had no right being that gorgeous and strutting around the bar.”
I hold his angry stare for a second and erupt into laughter.
“Are you yelling compliments at me now?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?” He blinks a few times and releases a breath of hot air. “Holy smokes, I’m jealous all over again and it was like two years ago.”
“Jealous?” I melt a little. “Even back then?”
“It’s not important.Ahem.Go back to bed.” He waves his hand over my face. “This is all a dream. You won’t remember this.”
I grab his hand and tuck it under my chin. “Nah. I’ve lost enough memories as it is. I don’t want to lose the good ones too.”
He blushes through his beard, then he startles upright, cracking his forehead against the ceiling.
“Tris,” I cry.
“If I don’t have a bruise by the end of this trip, it will be a miracle.”
“Let me get you a cold water bottle.”
“No, wait.” He snags my arm. “The night you were wearing the miniskirt?—”
“Regular skirt, but go on.”
“You passed out at the table, and I carried you back home.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Yeah, as soon as I saw your head hit the table, I was overthere. I didn’t trust your drunk boyfriend to make wise choices, so I left the bar to Mark and carried you home.”
I cover my mouth. All this time I thought it had been Burns. Shaking my head, I piece together my missing memories.
“Let me get this straight—you just took me. Picked me up and nobody said anything?”
He shrugs. “The group you were with was too drunk to notice. Karaoke night gets a little rowdy.”
“Oh my gosh. And you just lugged me through town and into my apartment?” I suck in a breath. He was in my tiny, crappy apartment. Probably littered with Chinese take-out boxes and my clothes flung everywhere. “Were you inside my bedroom?”
“Well, yeah. I had to get you to your bed.”
“And you just dropped me off and left.”
He clears his throat. “I had planned to, but then you vomited on me?—”
Groaning, I roll into a ball away from him. If I could dig through the mattress to hide, I would.
“—a few times. I had to rinse off my shirt.”
“Then you left?”
“Well . . .”
“Oh my gracious, Tristen. Why am I just learning about this?”
“It’s not a big deal. I was worried about you. You were really out of it, so I stayed for a few hours, debating if I should take you to the hospital or not. But you seemed a lot better after you threw up all that liquor... just wish it wasn’t on me.”
I groan again, wishing Past-Reese didn’t leave me such horror stories.
