“So, I take it from your reaction, you’re not really up for taking on the dunes this morning.”
Even the thought of running made my stomach lurch. Vaulting out of bed as quickly as possible, I rushed towards the bathroom before dropping to my knees and wrapping my arms around the cool porcelain.
After emptying my stomach, I washed my face and rinsed my mouth before stumbling back into my bedroom to face the music. Spying Seth sitting on the end of my bed, I crawled back in and pulled the blankets up over my head.
“Big night?”
“Not really.”
“Well, if this is you after ‘not a really’ big night, I’d like to see how you pull up after a big night.” The bastard had the audacity to sound smug. Prick. He could’ve at least pretended to be sympathetic. Even if he had to fake it.
“I’m never drinking again,” I declared, pulling the pillow over my head in attempts to placate the tiny little guys in my skull from continuing their mining on my brain.
The bed creaked, and I felt like I was being watched. Slowly, I peeled the pillow off my face and cracked open my eyes only to find I was right. Seth was staring straight at me. I could only imagine how bad I looked, let alone how bad I smelt.
“You say that now.”
“Mean it.”
“Well, I was just stopping by to see if you were up for a run this morning, but I’m guessing you’ll be spending the day in bed. So, get some sleep.” He bent down and kissed my forehead gently. “Give me a call when you’re feeling better.”
“Won’t be. I’m dying.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“Not dramatic. Dying. Send flowers.”
With a deep chuckle that I felt in the pit of my stomach, I heard him say softly, “Call me later,” before the click of the door sounded, leaving me to wallow in my own misery. Or stupidity as the case may be.
