The Enemy Lives Next Door (bxb)

Sixteen

Part Sixteen

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My eyes snap open, and a wave of regret crashes over me.

A migraine pounds at my temples, each movement aggravating the pain. I press my palms to my face, rubbing my temples in a futile attempt to dull the ache.

The last fragments of my memory flicker: Zack throwing up on me, nearly kissing Tyson, and swigging vodka off the hood of Liam's car. The thought alone sends a fresh jolt of pain through my skull. I groan and roll onto my side, hoping for relief.

My mouth feels like a desert. I try to piece together how I ended up in bed. I furrow my brow and pull back the quilt, inspecting my clothes. Blue checkered pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt greet me. A wave of nausea rises in my throat as I sit up, realizing the surroundings are unfamiliar. Panic knots in my stomach until I spot Liam's football jacket hanging behind the door.

I'm in Liam's room—again. The last time I was here, we were kids, and his room was filled with toys. Now, it's a shrine to his achievements, trophies and memorabilia replacing the clutter of childhood. The curtains are drawn, but blue LED lights cast an eerie glow, illuminating the room.

If Liam's changed me, I think, I'll rip his nuts off and make meatballs out of them.

A knock at the door makes me dive under the quilt, heart racing. I don't want to be seen like this. The door creaks open, and I shut my eyes, bracing for Mrs. Blackwell.

In a frantic rush, I blurt out, "Mrs. Blackwell, I can explain! This is all Liam's fault. He basically kidnapped me, and I said no—"

A familiar chuckle cuts me off. "Wow, thanks for pinning this all on me," Liam's voice rumbles. My annoyance flares, but I stay hidden under the blanket. "And I didn't kidnap you. You had a choice, so you kidnapped yourself."

Confusion clouds my thoughts. I roll my eyes, still not emerging. I feel the bed dip as Liam sits down and tugs at the quilt.

His chuckle grows louder when I clutch the blanket tighter. "Come on, Dalley," he says, "you have to come out eventually."

"I'm already out," I retort, voice muffled by the quilt. "I don't think I want to see the world again. Everyone probably knows Zack threw up on me..."

Liam's laughter is infectious. I kick the end of the bed in annoyance. He crawls over me, and without warning, drops his full weight onto my back. His muscles crush me, making me gasp for breath. He gets off quickly, and my headache intensifies as I sit up. Liam grins at me, wearing only sweatpants that hang precariously low.

With a casual wave, he says, "nice to see you again after your hibernation."

I point at him from under the covers. "Do you not want to speak again? I might just discard your vocal cords," I threaten. "And how did I end up in these awful clothes?"

A blush tints his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck. "Trust me, I didn't look at your private parts. I swear. Look, you're still in the same underwear," he rushes to explain. "And it's not awful; it's comfy. You were so drunk I had to carry you."

I blush in response, still wary. My suspicions about him remain, though I can't deny he's growing on me.

I raise an eyebrow. "You better have not, or you'll be six feet under."