Wrong - Aston Jana - Страница 30

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The drinks keep arriving and I keep downing them, numbing my emotions. "I think I'm in love with Luke," I slur a short while later. "See?" I pull out my phone and find a picture of Luke and I, a selfie I took of us lying on his couch the weekend after Thanksgiving when we were watching Elf. I hold it up for Boyd to look at.

"That's great, Sophie. I'm happy for you," Boyd says quietly.

"He's a doctor." I hiccup. "And I'm classy." I laugh at my own joke. I'm funny. "Oh, shit, he's been calling," I say, looking at my phone. "We've been here a while."

"I'm sure he doesn't expect you to answer the second he calls," Boyd says reassuringly. "But maybe it's time to get a cab?"

"Probably," I agree, and then I rest my head on the table.

Chapter 24

I awake to a pounding headache and too much light. I close my eyes again. I'm going to throw up. Focus. Reach over and grab your trash can. Do not throw up on your bed, Sophie.

I open my eyes slowly.

I have no idea where I am. Holy shit, I have never been this irresponsible in my life. The last twenty-four hours flash in front of me. The coffee shop, Boyd, Luke, Shay's Bar. I don't remember anything past Shay's. I need to call Luke back. Tears prick my eyes as I recall how good he's been to me, and I repaid him by ignoring his calls while I sat in a bar getting drunk with Boyd. I'm horrible.

"Hey, you're up." It's Boyd. I'm at Boyd's.

"Bathroom!" I blurt out, and Boyd points to a bathroom en-suite.

I stumble out of the bed and and make it to the bathroom just in time to throw up in the toilet. I sink to the bathroom floor and wipe my mouth. I feel like crap, I have vomit in my hair and I blew off Luke. I'm in a stranger's apartment. My brother's, sure, but he's still a stranger.

I stand up and examine myself in the mirror. I look awful. Being irresponsible does not look good on me. I close the toilet lid and sit before realizing my cell phone is in my pocket. Yes! 6:44 AM Friday morning. Eleven missed calls from Luke, Jean and Everly. Six voicemails. Thirty-four text messages.

I press the button to return Luke's call.

He answers on the first half ring. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I respond. "I'm—"

He cuts me off. "Where are you?"

He's so mad. I don't think my answer is going to help things. "I'm at Boyd's."

The silence is deafening.

"Where is Boyd's?"

"I'm sorry, Luke, I didn't mean to ignore your calls."

"Where. Is. Boyd's?"

"I don't know. I don't know where I am."

Silence.

"You're okay?" he asks again.

"Yes." I sigh. "I threw up but I'm fine. I'm in the bathroom."

"Jesus, Sophie, are you really this young?"

No, I want to say. No. I'm so mortified. It was stupid to get drunk with someone I don't know. I put my safety in the hands of a stranger. A drunk stranger. I'm lucky the only thing that happened to me was passing out and waking up with a hangover. What if Boyd had passed out too? I could have ended up anywhere. Stupid.

So I say nothing.

"Open the map app on your phone and tell me what street you're on."

I pull the phone away from my ear and do as I'm instructed. "I'm on South Street, somewhere between 13th and 15th."

"I'll be there in five minutes. Get the exact address from Boyd and text me."

The line goes dead. He hung up on me. I stand and look at my shitty reflection in the mirror again and use my hand to cup water from the faucet to rinse my mouth out.

I exit the bedroom and realize I'm in a large loft. A loft I have no recollection of seeing last night.

"My boyfriend is coming to pick me up."

"Luke," Boyd states.

"Uh, yeah. Was I talking about him last night?"

"Just a little." He laughs.

"I'm sorry you had to take care of me."

Boyd scoffs. "It was no problem."

"I need to text Luke your address." I wave my phone. "I can't believe I don't know where I'm at. So stupid."

"You're in college. You're entitled to a little fun."

I think our idea of fun is different, but I keep that to myself as I text Luke the address. "Have you lived here a long time?" I ask, looking around. There's not much in the way of personal items. It’s a beautiful loft. Big, with views of the city.

He shrugs. "Less than a year." He tells me about the area while I wait for Luke. I realize we’re less than a mile from Luke’s place in Rittenhouse Square.

There's a knock on the door and I grab my coat and purse as Boyd opens the door.

I chance a glance at Luke. He looks exhausted. Boyd is speaking to him but Luke ignores him, his focus entirely on me.

"Wait in the car."

I say a quick goodbye to Boyd and get out of there as fast as I can. The mood between Luke and I is so off and I do not want to argue with him in front of Boyd.

I reach Luke's car and place my hands on the passenger side roof, breathing in and out. I've made it through three and a half years of college without ever being this hungover. I will quite simply die if I vomit in Luke's luxury car.

I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing, waiting for the nausea to settle while wondering how my mother has managed to mess up my life nineteen years after leaving it. No, this isn't on her. It's on me. I'm the same person I was yesterday. Learning the name of the missing person on my birth certificate doesn't give me the right to throw away the life I've made for myself.

A hand comes to rest on my back. "You okay?"

I nod and Luke opens the passenger door and gets me settled before circling the car and getting behind the wheel. We drive in silence down Broad Street. It's just past 7:00 AM and traffic is picking up. The speeding up and slowing down are making me feel worse and I'm focused on not vomiting, so I don't immediately notice that Luke is taking me back to his Rittenhouse Square condo and not my dorm.

"I have class today," I protest as he pulls into the parking garage.

"Hopefully someone takes notes for you," Luke replies and pulls into his assigned parking space.

I open my mouth to argue, but I have to throw up again. I open the car door and make it to the trash can next to the elevator without a second to spare. Luke is there a moment later, hand on my back. The elevator opens and I assume he's pushed the button to call for it, but I realize it's someone exiting the elevator as Luke says, "Good morning, Mrs. Hudson." She replies and heels click away from us before I look up.

I am beyond humiliated. "I'm sorry," I say as Luke leads me into the empty elevator and pushes the button for the penthouse.

"For?"

"Everything. Specifically for looking like a drunk whore in front of your fancy neighbors."

"You don't look like a whore. Not one I'd bring home anyway."

I look at him and I know I have tears in my eyes about to fall but I'm trying to fight them.

"Hey, hey." He crosses the space between us in the elevator and wipes them away with his thumbs. "I'm kidding."

"Don't." I pull away and back up. "I smell disgusting."

He pulls me into him anyway and kisses the top of my head. "You do," he agrees. "But I don't care."

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