Chapter Fifteen

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I peek my eyes open to a blinding light that sends a shooting pain through my temples. I groan and bury my face into the fluffy pillow beneath my head. It smells woodsy and masculine. Certainly not what my pillow usually smells like.

With a furrowed frown I open my eyes again, trying to ignore the pounding in my head as I blink repeatedly and look around. I'm in a bedroom I've never seen before, wrapped up in dark sheets and my clothes from last night.

I'm thoroughly confused about how I got here, or where here even is, but as the fog of sleep slowly diminishes, the memory of last night's events come flooding back to me. I groan and drop my head in my hands. It isn't hard to piece together that this is Ghost's bed, and I'm sleeping in it.

From the looks of it and the fact that I'm fully clothed I'm not worried that he slept in it with me, which is at least one thing I can be proud of. The rest of what I did causes me to feel overwhelmingly guilty as my mind thinks of Brody and how he would react to all of this.

I find a fresh glass of water and a bottle of Advil sitting on the nightstand. I hurriedly down a few pills and the entire glass before glancing over at the end of the bed and finding a neat pile of fresh clothes sitting there, along with a towel.

Geez, Ghost really knows how to take care of a girl after a night of drinking. He must have plenty of experience.

I shuffle into the adjoining bathroom, carrying the armful of clothes and towel with me. I don't even attempt to look at myself in the mirror. I already know I look, and feel, like death.

I turn on the shower and step into the spray of water that's set at a scorching temperature. Ghost has quite a collection of body washes and shampoos, and they all smell manly and intoxicating. I choose my favorite one and lather up my body and hair, basking in the cleansing feeling.

It feels great to wash away the sweat of dancing all night. Fifteen minutes later I step out of the water and dry off, before pulling on the clothes Ghost left me. His t-shirt is long and hangs nearly down to my thighs, and I have to roll the band of his sweatpants a few times just to make them short enough for my legs.

I dry my hair as much as possible with the towel, knowing it's going to dry into a frizzy mess, but there's not much I can do about that. Once I finally feel ready I step out of the room and wander down the hall in search of Ghost.

Part of me is nervous to face him after everything that went down yesterday. From seeing him naked, to drunk calling him, to forcing him to dance with me, I'm completely mortified. I wonder if he'll even allow me to be his friend anymore. Maybe he'll demand me to get out of his house the moment he sees me.

The smell of breakfast food has me wandering past the living room, where a discarded pillow and blanket lay on the couch, and into the kitchen. That's where I find Ghost, his shirtless back facing me as he stands at the stove, scraping at something in a frying pan with a spatula.

Daisy notices me and trots over slowly, causing Ghost to glance over his shoulder at me. I watch his face, searching for signs of what kind of mood he's going to be in. When no hint of the usual spark of humor in his eyes meets me, I feel my stomach drop. He's upset.

He turns back to the stove, but asks gruffly over his shoulder, "How're you feeling?"

I can't help but groan as I slide onto one of the stools at the counter, "Not great."

"Well that's to be expected." He remarks with a shrug.

"I think I'm dying."

"You're dramatic."

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