Choke.
Sip some more.
“They go down?”
I close my eyes. My mouth. If I could manage it, I would close the valves feeding my heart with blood, and if I could be sure it wouldn’t hurt, I’d simply wait for death to find me.
“Rose?”
“Yes.” I lay down again and turn to my side, hugging my pillow the way I huggedhimyesterday. And because it’s a stupid pillow, I harrumph. “Guess you’re embarrassed, huh?”
“Me?” He sets the glass back on my bedside table and restswith his elbows on my mattress. “No, I’m good. I wasn’t the one duking it out with a child last night.”
“I…” Stunned, I peel my eyes wider and search his dancing gaze. Then I scowl and close them again. “You’re punishing me for making an idiot of myself.”
“Punishing you how?” He trails his fingertips through my hair. “By giving you water and medicine to help you feel better?”
“You’re mad! Because I was drunk and stupid, and you couldn’t bear to even look at me anymore. Yesterday, we were… you and I… we…” My brain is too slow, and with every thought I try to think, my headache pounds more savage in the back of my skull. “You liked me! But now you don’t.”
“Says who?”
“Says you! You put me in my bed and walked away.”
“Wait. You’re mad because I…”
In the silence, I peel my eyes open.
“Put you to bed?”
“I’m not mad.You’remad.”
“And you’re so hungover, it’s affecting an intelligent woman’s ability to use her brain. I’m not mad, Rose. Why the hell would I be? I mean…” Finally, his perfect mask of calm kindness slips.They always do. “Except for the fact that I was fucking terrified when I couldn’t find you. But I figure that’s a different conversation for a different time.”
“You put me in my bed.” I flop onto my back—ouch—and then I push up and shuffle along the mattress to lean against the wall. “Alone. It’s punishment for what I did.”
“You think I—I—” He sputters.Finally! “You were unconscious and sick, Rose!”
“Which is why you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad!”
“So why didn’t you bring me to your bed? Yesterday, before I was bad, you would have. You seemed to like me enough to?—”
“Oh, sweet summer child.” He surges up and sits on the mattress beside my thigh. “You think I would punish you because you had fun with my friends? And you think punishment isnotbringing you to my bed when you were clearly fucking incapable of consenting to that?”
“You…” My brain hurts. My eyes hurt. My life hurts. “What?”
“We’veneverspent the night in my bed, Rose, and me being in yours is new. You were unconscious when I brought you home, and sick to your stomach every time you started to wake up again.”
“So you left me?” My lips drop forward into a pathetic pout, trembling because I’m an idiot. “That feels like punishment.”
“Aw.” Chuckling, he leans forward and lays a soft, dry kiss on my lips. “You get sulky when you’re hungover, huh? I wanted to take you to my bed so we’d have room to stretch out, but if you woke up in an unfamiliar place and panicked, I would’ve felt like a dick. I wanted to crawl into this bed with you, but it’s small, and our Titanic theory won’t work, since I don’t fuck unconscious, non-consenting women.”
He said fuck.
Warmth fills my cheeks and sends tingles into my belly.
“But no matter where I sleep, or where you sleep…” He cups my face, tilting my head back and forcing me to meet his eyes. “I’m not in the habit of punishing women. Ever. You’re grown and beautiful and smart and living your own life. If you want to get drunk in the middle of the day, then that’s your prerogative. I stilllikeyou, Rose. So fucking much thatIdidn’t sleep in my bed last night either.”
