My brows furrow. “What?”
“We thought you’d passed out.”
“Blake!” Mia calls, squeezing past Teddy’s massive body through the doorframe. She pulls me into a hug.
“I’m sorry. Why are you hugging me?” I ask against her blonde hair. She smells good too. Like shampoo. I grin and take a giant whiff. “Girl. Why do you smell so good? You should let me borrow your shampoo next time along with this kickass dress.”
With a laugh, she pulls away from me. “Deal. But for now, let’s get you home, okay?”
“Cool.” I sway on my feet, and my stomach churns. “First, I gotta puke.”
The tile is cold against my knees as I collapse in front of the toilet and vomit like there’s no tomorrow. My chest heaves. My stomach twists. My throat burns. And my eyes water.
It freaking sucks.
I hate throwing up. The lack of control. The bitter, acidic taste. It’s seriously the worst.
Hands are in my hair, holding it away from my face as I hurl my guts out until there’s nothing left in my stomach but the realization I just vomited in front of an audience.
Fan-freaking-tastic.
I want to go home.
I want to go to sleep.
I want to erase this entire night.
Especially those last couple of drinks.
Man, I’m so embarrassed.
How can this be happening right now?
I rest my head against the hand cupping my temple while the other one keeps a firm grasp on my messy hair. It feels nice. The hand. It’s warm. Calloused. Gentle.
“You good?” a low voice murmurs.
Theo.
Yup. Theo just saw me puke.
And act like an idiot at my first college party.
No, not an idiot.
A child.
He saw me act like a child.
The same thing I’ve been trying to change for years.
Dammit!
I rub beneath my nose with the back of my hand as Theo helps me to my feet in silence. The room is still spinning but not quite as badly.
He doesn’t let me go as he leads me to the sink to clean up. And boy, do I need it. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, a lump clogs my throat.
My dark, smokey makeup is smudged, making me look like a raccoon instead of the sexy goddess I’d been channeling. Not to mention my naturally curly red hair. It’s sticking up in every direction like I just rolled out of bed. I don’t look sexy anymore. I don’t look put together.
I look like a freaking train wreck.
Like Merida from Brave. Except without the Disney Princess filter. Just pale and pasty and…a mess.
I want to go home.
My attention shifts from my own reflection to Theo’s as embarrassment floods my cheeks, turning them red. Then again, maybe it’s from the vomiting. He’s standing behind me, his brows pulled low and angry. And it hurts. To see him mad at me. To see him disappointed.
“I don’t want a lecture,” I whisper. My voice echoes in the otherwise silent bathroom, and the ensuing quiet is almost eerie. Like he doesn’t know what to say or how to express how much of a screw-up I am.
Fun fact, Theo: I already know.
With a soft curse under his breath, he leans down and grabs something from beneath the sink.
Mouthwash.
I take the bottle from his grasp and swig a little of it, the minty flavor a welcome change from the taste of acid and alcohol.
After a solid thirty seconds of swishing, I spit it in the sink and twist the cap back onto the bottle, setting it onto the counter while Theo simply…watches me.
He’s always watching me. Even when we were little, I would catch him staring. Studying. I always wanted to know what he was thinking. If he was as fascinated with me as I’ve always been with him. But not today. Not in this moment. Tonight, I think I’d prefer to be left in the dark. No need to add salt to the wound and all that.
Avoiding his gaze, I tuck my hair behind my ear and murmur, “I should probably get home.”
“I told Mia to leave.”
I crane my neck toward him and look over my shoulder, meeting his gaze with my own as he stands behind me. “What?”
“She shouldn’t have to clean up your puke.”
Ouch.
His sharp words shouldn’t hurt, but they do. I’m not surprised. Everything hurts when it comes to Theo. My heart. My pride. My confidence.
Why would tonight be any different?
But I refuse to let him see it. How much it hurts to be around him.
I turn and face him fully, crossing my arms over my chest. “She won’t need to clean up my puke. I already hurled everything out.”
He scoffs. “For now. Who’s to say you won’t throw up again? It’s not her job––”
“So, what? It’s yours?” I challenge.
With another scoff, he takes his beat-up baseball hat off and scrubs his hand over his face like he doesn’t know what to say, then he mutters, “Apparently.”
I step to the side, leaving some space between us. Some much needed space. “I’m not a little girl––”
“Then stop acting like one,” he growls, closing the distance and covering his wavy hair with his hat again. It shields the bathroom light from hitting his eyes, making them darker and more intense than usual. They’re almost animalistic, lacking any humanity or softness at all. Only bitterness. And it’s all directed at me.
I shake off the realization and argue, “You shouldn’t have embarrassed me when I was playing Beer Pong.”
“You shouldn't have been playing in the first place.”
“Why? Because I don't belong here?” The question slips out of me before I can stop it, laced with vulnerability and a sharp accusation I’ve been too scared to voice aloud until this moment. But it’s out in the open now, and I want to know if I’m right. If it was a mistake to come here. If he’ll always look at me like I’m a burden––like I’m a little kid––or if he’ll ever view me as the adult I want him to see. I’ve been asking myself if it was a mistake to come to LAU since the moment he moved me in with Ash and the girls. And apparently, buzzed Blake wants to know too.
Theo pulls back, confused. “You don’t belong where? At my place?”
“Why stop there?” I demand, my frustration finally boiling over. “Not only the Taylor House but LAU too. You don’t want me here at all,” I tell him. “Am I right?”
“It’s not my fault any of those guys would love to chew you up and spit you back out.”
I frown. “Burrows is nice.”
“He’s a hockey player, Blake. None of us are nice. Not to girls like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand, reaching onto my tiptoes to close a bit more of the distance between us. Because I don’t like this. Feeling small. Weak. Inconsequential.
“It means you're too innocent to be here,” he growls.
“Who says I’m innocent?”
His gaze slides down my body, and for the first time ever, there’s a glint of heat in it. Not much. Hell, it’s barely a spark. But it’s there. Tempting me. Testing me. My resolve. My self-preservation. My restraint.
I lift my chin and meet his gaze with my own. “Maybe I’m not so innocent anymore.” I let out a shuddered breath, our lips so close I can practically taste him. “You haven’t seen me for over a year, Teddy. You don’t know where I’ve been. Who I’ve kissed. Who I’ve fucked.”