Page 102 of Broken Blades

I groaned and buried my face in the blanket. Wished desperately for the earth to open up and swallow me whole.

My phone buzzed on the table. I grabbed it with trembling fingers.

Seven texts from numbers I didn't recognize. All tagged photos from last night.

Me, bright-eyed and reckless, dragging Wyatt onto the dance floor.

Me, hands on his chest, grinning up at him like I'd forgotten we were fake.

Him, watching me with an expression I couldn't name. Something between exasperation and...

I closed the app before I could finish that thought.

Footsteps padded across hardwood. I froze.

I peered over the edge of the blanket.

Wyatt walked into the room in low-slung sweatpants and a hoodie. Hair still damp from a shower. Coffee mug in hand. Sleep-rough voice that made my stomach flip for reasons I refused to examine.

He stopped when he saw me awake. "You look alive. Barely."

I made a pathetic noise somewhere between a whimper and a groan. "Did I…? Last night…?"

"Yes."

I covered my face with the blanket again, wishing I could suffocate myself with it. "I want to dissolve into mist."

"You puked on my shoes."

I gasped into the fabric. "NO."

"Yes."

Mortification burned through every cell in my body. I curled into a tighter ball, making myself as small as humanly possible. "Kill me. Please. Just—end it now."

"Dramatic."

"I threw up on your shoes, Wyatt. I danced like an idiot. I—" The memory of my hands on his chest made me want to scream into the void. "I touched you."

"You did."

His tone gave nothing away. Not anger. Not disgust. Just... acknowledgment.

I peeked out again, mortified. "Are you going to hold this over me forever?"

He set a mug on the coffee table in front of me. Steam curled from the rim. "Drink."

Not an answer.

I sat up slowly, head pounding, and reached for the mug with shaking hands. Black coffee. Strong enough to wake the dead.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "About the shoes. About the—everything."

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with that unreadable expression I'd come to both fear and crave.

"You apologize too much."

"I ruined your night."