Trace of Innocence (No Control Book 3)

Chapter 46 - part i

(No Control - 46. Still The One, first part)

I'm horrified the next morning when I have to make a run for the bathroom to chuck my guts up. There's no way to disguise it, and it turns out I'm not quiet when I vomit. It's one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

When I finally stand up and check out my reflection in the mirror I want to hide from Jess for the rest of the day. My skin is white and clammy and my eyes are bloodshot. My hair is lank and hanging in my face. I look like shit.

I put it in an elastic band, and then brush my teeth three times, and gargle with the mouthwash.

When I finally venture into the bedroom again Jess is staring at her phone.

"I feel like death," I croak. "What are you doing?"

"Just reading about our night out last night," she says, absently. "If you can't remember much, the tabloids will gladly fill you in."

Fuck that. I don't want her reading that shit.

"Don't read that shit," I mutter, and I fall on the bed and want to cry as my head pounds.

Makes a change from my heart I suppose.

"I can't help it," she says shyly. "I want to know what people are saying about me."

"They're saying you're beautiful," I tell her, equally as shyly.

"They're not, actually," she argues.

I bet they are.

"Well I am," I argue back, and I smile as she looks over at me and blushes.

Liam and Louis will be arriving in a few hours. Jess still doesn't know. I'm glad I'm hungover and have an excuse to stay in the house; it makes it easier to catch her off guard. I just hope she hasn't seen anything on Twitter about them arriving in LA.

"You wanna just hang out here today?" I ask, casually.

"Yeah definitely," she nods, and I inwardly breathe a sigh of relief. "I might even throw you in the pool. If your stomach can stand it," she adds mischievously, and my insides churn at the thought of any kind of sudden movement.

I take a shower while she makes breakfast, and when I enter the kitchen she is wearing my white Rolling Stones tshirt and a tiny pair of knickers.

What is it about girls wearing guys' clothes that is just so damn hot?

She doesn't seem fazed by how shit I look, as she openly checks out my body with a faraway expression on her face, and I grin as I ask her about the picture she sent to Grimmy last night - I don't know if he replied or not.

"Yeah, he said I'm way too cool to be hanging out with some loser in a boyband," Jess says immediately, and I flick her leg and she laughs.

"Nah, he didn't really," she says, and then a thoughtful expression passes over her face.

"You know something," she suddenly exclaims, "you really remind me of that other guy that did X Factor, what was his name now..?"

I haven't a clue who she is on about.

"Oh yeah! Frankie Cocozza!" she says triumphantly.

Is she fucking kidding me?

I look nothing like that little coke-head.

"Are you joking?" I demand.

I can't fucking believe this.

"No, why?" she says, looking up at me innocently.