My Dirty Little Secret

Chapter Thirty Three

I could barely see when I woke up the following morning, blinded by pain in my head and utter confusion. I stumbled into my living room, wearing nothing but lingerie, wanting nothing but coffee in that instant, until I figured everything else out. That's when I realized I wasn't alone.

I screamed and immediately grabbed the curtain on the wall to cover myself.

"Chad!" I yelled, obviously caught by surprise.

"Brooke," he said, calmly. "Relax. If you haven't noticed, I don't like women."

"But you're a boy," I said, awkwardly letting go of the curtain.

He rolled his eyes, putting his attention back on my television. 

"Why are you here so early?" I asked, throwing on a big t-shirt from my laundry pile. 

"It's 1:30 in the afternoon," he said.

"What?" I asked incredulously. I never slept past eight, at the latest.

"And I've been here all night."

"What?" I asked again. "Why?"

"I wasn't going to leave you alone like that."

"Like what?"

"Um, let me ask you something. Do the words "New Brooke" mean anything to you?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, sitting across from him on a chair. 

"Okay, last night. We went to dinner and met Kate's new girlfriend, remember?"

"Oh, God," I said, piecing the story together in my mind.

"Yeah, well let's just say the pressure was a little too much for you."

"I remember I drank," I said, "but I don't remember getting drunk."

"Well, I think it was something Kate will remember for quite some time."

"Oh my God, I have to call her and apologize," I said, rushing for the phone, but he pulled it out of my hands.

"No," he said. "Oh no. No way."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because she probably won't be ready to talk to you until sometime next week," he said. "She's livid."

"Oh my God, I am horrible," I said, putting my face in my hands.

"No you're not," he said. "It's my fault, too. And Marco's, and Kate's. We all got you into something you weren't ready for."

"I'm such a bitch," I continued in my self deprecation. "Kate met my girlfriend no problem. Why can't I be okay with...with...what's her name?"

"Megan," he filled in.

"Ugh," I said, some of my memory returning. "Megan."

He smiled, amused for some odd reason. "There was nothing wrong with Megan," he said.

"Oh, please. Ooh, I'm Megan, with my perfect teeth and my English degree, and my fancy French wine, and my fancy French accent when I say 'Cabernet Sauvignon,'" I imitated, being completely petty and immature.

He laughed. "So you do remember last night," he said.

"Only the important stuff," I said.

After a while, he leaned back and put his feet up as he said, "You know, in retrospect, you were  kind of hilarious."

"What did I do?"

"You called her 'Brooke 2.0,'" he said, smiling.

I had to laugh at myself. "I'm such a bitch."