“I’m not alright, Lex. I’m so needy…”
She grabs my hand to guide it between her legs. Before it reaches its destination, I pull my wrist free. “I’m not fucking you drunk, Andrea.”
I stand and take a couple of steps away from her before she can do anything else.
“You almost fucked me drunk that first time in your car,” she reminds me with a pout.
“But you weren’t drunk, were you? You were tipsy.”
To shut her up, I bend forward to give her a quick kiss as I snatch my glasses from her loose grip and then turn on my heels to leave her there. She calls out my name, but I ignore her. This isn’t happening, no matter what she says. Not only is she too intoxicated to give genuine consent, but I’m also still mad at her for her behavior with Oliver.
We’re not serious, right? Well, drunk sex is for serious relationships.
Chapter 25
I. Am. In. Pain.
My eyelids are heavy, and the room is too bright. I stretch my limbs, groaning at the ache running through them. The fuck…? Did I get hit by a bus? My head’s killing me, and my muscles are sore. What’s happening?
Oh shit. I got drunk.Sodrunk. We stayed at the bar until they basically threw us out. I vaguely remember a heated debate about Star Wars versus Star Trek, ending with Joseph and Brian making everyone in the bar vote for the best franchise.
I try to move again with a grunt. Shit… Twenty-six is too young to be this wrecked by a hangover. I roll over in search of my phone and freeze.
This isn’t my room.
What the hell?
Two keycards are on the nightstand by my phone, and then I remember. I went to my room, changed my mind, and went to room 504. As I grab my phone, I suddenly recall something else.
Oh fuck. Oh, no. I sent texts.Booty calltexts.
Utterly mortified, I summon the courage to read what I sent to Lex.
Oh, this is bad. This is so. Fucking. Bad.
With my face buried in the pillow, I let out a scream of frustration. Drunk Andy is a fucking idiot. I’m never touching alcohol ever again. I can’t tell what’s worse. The ridiculous emojis, or how he left me on read. But even I want to ghost myself, so I can’t exactly blame him. I’m so pissed that my pounding headache becomes irrelevant.Holy shit, I hate myself.
How the hell do I keep putting myself in these situations?
I roll on my back to stare at the fixture above me. I can’t face him after this. I simply cannot. I need to be on the next flight to Peru.
With a tearless sob, I drag my ass out of the bed to take an ibuprofen tablet from my bag. “What the—”
It’s filled to the brink with loose peanuts. My face is frozen in confusion as I stare at the weird contents for a moment. Last night was really wild, wasn’t it? I shuffle through them to find what I need and head to the bathroom for a glass of water.
Then, I sneakily make my way back to my room, praying to God I won’t encounter one of the guys. Thankfully, I don’t, which allows me to relax a little. I proceed to get ready as fast as I can in my incapacitated state. Since I can’t find it, I suspect that Lex took off with the thong I threw at him yesterday, and I don’t know what to make of it.
When I arrive at the breakfast room, I instantly spot my colleagues, thanks to Oliver’s red hair. Once closer, I see Brian and Steven are the only ones missing. I fill a plate with whatever feels edible—so, not much—and sit with the group in one of the empty chairs.
“Hey, guys,” I say, avoiding Lex’s gaze at all costs. They greet me back as I take a bite of my English scone.
“So, last night was pretty wild, eh?” Oliver says to me. Why me in particular, though? He senses my confusion and chuckles. “How much of it do you remember?”
“Bits and pieces.”
“Well, I don’t remember everything, but I sure remember you clapping back at that dude who groped your ass,” Mace states with esteem. I stare at him blankly, failing to remember that moment. “Queen shit right there. I never want to be yelled at in Spanish. What was it you said when he told you to calm your tits?”
“Uh… Probably something like ‘no voy a calmar mis tetas, coño.’”
