I don’t feel better.
Go figure.
Chapter 11
Melly
ThecoffeeMilabroughtme is warm against my palms and the steam stopped coming off the top of it a while ago. We drove in silence to my apartment, and now me, Mila, and Penelope are sitting in the living room. My throat is doing the dry click thing that happens when you’ve been mouth-breathing for hours.
My head hurts.
Mila is on the other end of the couch. Her feet are pulled up under her. She’s in her sweats, and she’s been watching me patiently. I know she’s just dying to hear what happened last night.
I glance down again, wondering if I’m imagining things. But it’s real. I really am wearing Blue’s hoodie. I use the sleeve tocover my hands, and I bring it to my face. I inhale it, and it smells like him.
“Do you want toast?” Penelope asks as she stands.
I nod. Nodding is easier than speaking.
“With butter?”
I nod again and mutter, “Thank you.”
Mila shifts on the couch. “How’s your head?”
“Bad.”
“Yeah. Same.” She looks around the apartment, tapping her fingers on the arm of the couch. “So, what do you remember?”
I close my eyes and think. My head spins, so I don’t want to do that again. I shrug. “Um––”Nothing.“Dancing. I remember dancing. And the kitchen. The shots.” I pause. I touch my face. “The mustache. He drew a mustache on me.”
“Oh, he did that.”
“Yeah.” I look at her and hesitate. “Did I sleep in his bed?”
Her eyes flick across the room toward the kitchen, where Penelope is making my toast. “Yeah, Melly. You did.”
“Was he—” I stop. I don’t know what I’m asking. “Was he in the bed too?”
“I think for some of it.”
Some of it.
What doessome of itmean? Did he come to bed and then leave? Did he get in and then go to the floor when I fell asleep? Did I dream him? Did I dream the whole second half of the night?
I don’t remember him in the bed.
“Did anything happen?” I ask. My heart starts racing.
“I don’t think so.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“He swore on his grandmother’s grave.”
I look at her. “He swore?”
“I asked him three different times.”
