He doesn’t cuddle.
He’s made this very clear when he has me and leaves me.
Slipping out of bed, I hold my head as it throbs. The nausea intensifies, and I can’t believe I let Nancy talk me into taking shots with her last night. I knew better than to shoot tequila, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t welcome the escape.
And Tucker was there. No matter what happened, I knew I was safe.
Except from a hangover.
I fully understand everyone’s complaint about them now. This is terrible. Why the hell do people voluntarily do this to themselves multiple times a week?
Holy shit, I’m in Tucker’s room. Why was I in his bed? Why am I only wearing a shirt and panties?
We only ever come together in the room I stay in. What the hell happened last night? The last thing I really remember is throwing up in the bathroom with Nancy holding back my hair.
Oh God, Nancy must think I’m a total geek.Oh, that’s just Phoebe. She can’t even shoot tequila like a normal girl.
I almost laugh. No one has ever confused me for normal.
I walk out and step into the safety of the room I’ve called my own since meeting Tucker. Curling up onto the bed, I will the effects of tequila away. Maybe if I wish hard enough, the pain and sick feelings will go away.
“I’m so not making that margarita cake,” I mumble, remembering a piece of my conversation with Tucker.
At this point, I don’t even want to make my pretzel cupcakes because even the thought of smelling the stout makes my stomach roll. I might actually throw up, but I can’t bring myself to move. Moving makes it worse.
“What are you doing here?”
Tucker’s deep voice is just loud enough to make me flinch as a searing hot pain shoots behind my eyes.
“Seriously, why do people do this on purpose?” I ask with a groan. “What happened last night?”
“You drank tequila.”
“That much I remember. And then vomiting. Which might happen again. But that’s about all I remember. Aside from waking up in your bed.”
He walks over to hand me a bottle of water and a pill bottle. Whatever he offers, I’m taking. No questions asked. Not only does he have more experience with the aftereffects of alcohol than I do, whatever he’s giving me can’t make me feel any worse than I do right now.
“If you woke up there, why are you in here?”
Swallowing the pills, I lean back onto the soft pillows. “You don’t cuddle.”
“What?”
“That’s what you always say before you leave.Please forgive me. I don’t cuddle.I assume falling asleep in your bed rather than coming back in here was my mistake. After whatever we did last night.”
“You think I fucked you when you were too drunk to even ride on the back of my bike? That I’d do something you couldn’t give consent for?”
He sounds angry, and he gets louder. Which makes my temples throb.
“If you did, I know I said yes.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I can’t say no. Normally. This present moment might be different. Too much jostling would create a terrible experience for the both of us. Even I know vomit is not very sexy.”
Sighing, he sits on the bed. “Did you wake up naked?”
I frown. “I’m never naked. We just move my clothes to the side.”
