I gasp, sucking in air, my eyes flying open as I jerk my hands up, trying to stop her. She doesn’t.
“This is what you fucking get when you don’t text back, you buffoon,” she snaps. “You got me worried you died or something.”
I raise a brow.
“Don’t put that face on,” she says, angling the shower straight at my face.
I shake my head, reach up, and grab the shower head. Twisting it, I rip it from her hand and turn it on her instead. Water sprays everywhere.
I laugh, catching my breath, as I watch her freeze, her eyes wide.
“I hate you, Judas Harrington,” she says.
I shrug.
I hate myself, too, little sister.
She steps back to the tub and shuts off the water. When she turns, she tosses a towel at me. “Dry yourself and get to bed.”
She walks out, rubbing water from her arms.
I struggle to get out of the bathtub. My foot slips, but I catch myself on the edge and manage to stand. The cold shower helps, clears some of the fog, but my head still spins.
I hold onto the counter, pull the hoodie over my head, and dry myself with the towel. I tug my jeans off and stay in my boxers. When I leave the bathroom, she is already lying down.
I move toward the bed and collapse onto it again.
“Not this bed, you psycho,” she says, trying to lift me again, but I only manage to push her down with me.
My arms wrap around her, not letting her go.
She squirms, trying to get free. But I tighten my hands around her without thinking, my body refusing to cooperate with my brain.
“Fine,” she sighs. “But just tonight.”
She pulls the blanket closer to herself.
I’m too drunk to move. Too heavy to think about. I just close my eyes and fall asleep.
A soft breeze wakes me.
I groan, my head pounding from all the alcohol I drank last night. My mouth tastes bitter. When I squint my eyes open, I see Carmen already sitting on the bed. She is dressed, hair pulled back, watching me like she has been awake for a while.
“Good morning, asshole,” she whispers.
I chuckle and turn onto my side, facing away from her.
“You have to go to your room, Judas,” she says. “Catherine already texted me asking if we are up.”
Her voice barely reaches me. All I can think about is how my hands were wrapped around her all night, how her warmth still clings to me even now.
A soft knock comes from the door. I barely react.
“Who is it?” Carmen calls.
“William,” Dad says.
My eyes fly open.
