He ushers me to the bed and helps me lie down. He opens one of the bottles of water left on a desk in the room and hands it to me. “Hydrate.”
Even one sip lands sour in my stomach. “How many of these do you think to wash down the embarrassment?”
He smooths hair off my forehead. The pillow feels good beneath me.
“I’ve been there done that, Frey. This is real life. You’re free to live in front of me.”
I sit up, drinking tiny sips, Anton not leaving my side.
Having already humiliated myself, there’s no need for decorum. I slip out of my jeans, keeping my going-out shirt on, and wiggle under the covers. I start to fall asleep, but then I feel the sunken side of the bed lift and I quickly grab his hand.
“Will you stay?” I mumble.
I messed up tonight. But still, I’m not ready for him to leave. I need to say sorry tomorrow when I’m sober and he knows I mean it.
“You got it.” He presses a tender kiss to my forehead. “Now stop thinking about me, and get some sleep.”
4
The light cutsthrough the blinds in thin, gold stripes, hitting the bed, the wall, and her skin, illuminating it in an impossible shade of golden bronze.
Freya slaps one hand over her eyes. “God, tell me I’m not dead.”
“You’re not dead.” My voice comes out rough from no sleep.
Every time she stirred, I worried she’d be headed for the bathroom again.
“But you were close,” I joke.
She laughs weakly, instantly regretting it. “Ow. Don’t make me do that.” She groans. “I’m mortified.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“That’s easy for you to say.” Her tone softens. “You didn’t spend the night throwing up in front of someone you,” she pauses, perhaps figuring out how to describe what’s going on here— “work with.”
“I don’t remember any of that part.”
Last night did nothing to make me think less of her or see her as anything other than gorgeous.
Her eyes narrow. “Liar.”
There’s a sweating bottle of Gatorade I got from the vending machine last night sitting on the nightstand. I grab it and sit on the edge of the bed. Her mascara has smudged and her hair is all over the place…and she’s still managing to look like sin.
I hand her the much-needed electrolytes. “Drink this.”
She squeezes her eyes as if she’s trying to muster up the courage to pull herself upright. “Thanks for staying.”
“Someone had to make sure you didn’t stop breathing.”
Her eyes narrow again but this time with humor. “You’re a saint.”
I smooth some of her thick hair off her forehead without even thinking. “Don’t start rumors like that.”
The smile she returns is way too sweet and gracious for a guy who hasn’t stopped thinking about what could have happened last night.
She sighs. “Guess I owe you one.”
“You owe your body a drink.” I tilt the bottle toward her again.
