Just… well. He’s Hayden Vassilios. Stupidly hot. Effortlessly charming. He walks into a room and every girl looks up. Hell, most of the guys do too. He could have anyone he wants. So if he wasn’t busy hooking up with my sister or anyone else, then?—
I shoot upright again, heart suddenly racing again.
“Uh… we didn’t, um…” I fumble, my words getting tied up in my dry throat. “Did we?”
He groans again, rolling halfway back toward me.
“Did we what?”
The last few hours are a total blur. My head throbs. My mouth tastes like regret. I glance down—and freeze.
I’m not wearing my jeans anymore. All I’ve got on is just my underwear and the black velvet corset I wore to the party.
Did I kick them off in my sleep? Or… did someone take them off?
Alarm ripples through me.
I’m in Hayes’s bed. He’s half-naked. I’m half-naked. And I have no memory of how I got here.
Please, God, tell me I didn’t do something humiliating. Or stupid. Or irreversible.
“You know…” My face is hot with embarrassment. “Hook up?”
He blinks. And then—bursts out laughing. Full-body, bed-shaking, asshole laughter.
“What?”he chokes out. “Are you serious right now?”
“I’m in your bed,” I say, gesturing helplessly between us. “And you’re shirtless! And—I seem to be missing pants?”
“Nothing happened, you lunatic.” He snorts. “You pulled your jeans off yourself, climbed into my bed, and passed out like a toddler.”
I drop my head back onto the pillow.
“Oh, thank God.”
There’s a pause.
Then, almost too quiet to hear, he asks, “Why? Did you want to?”
I freeze.
“Want towhat?”
“You know… hook up?”
He laughs low and deep against the pillow, but there’s something unreadable in his eyes when he glances over at me again. Something that doesn’t feel like a joke at all.
My heart does this weird little flip in my chest. I mean… he’s definitely joking.
Right?
“No, you idiot,” I shoot back, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m just shocked you didn’t spend the night with Amber. Or some sorority girl with fake hair extensions and a spray tan.”
His grin fades.
“Is that really what you think of me?” he asks, quieter now. “That I just hook up with whoever’s in front of me?”
He doesn’t sound angry—not exactly—more hurt. Now that I think about it, it was kind of a rude way to phrase it.
