In A Perfect World

Chapter Thirteen

I didn't wake up the next morning – I arose from a coma. A sore, exhausting and very awful sleep coma. And it was like my memory of the past twenty-four hours had been wiped away like chalk off a board. But then I smelled the alcohol and noticed the bare arm spread across my stomach.

I sprinted to my bathroom.

God, it was like I was pumping my own stomach out into the toilet. With each gag came another surge of vomit shooting from my mouth. It tasted like alcohol and regrets. And pepperoni pizza. It tasted like...

I was naked.

Well, not really. But close enough to it. All I was wearing were my panties and a bra, but it was all messed up and tangled like I'd...well, like I'd taken it off. And then hurried to put it back on. But then, as I leaned over the toilet for another vomit-fest, I felt the band of my underpants make the sound of fabric ripping.

I'd ripped my underpants and that was just the fabric ripping even further.

The realization only made me vomit again. In fact, I hadn't realized that one stomach could produce so much of it but hey, I must have had a lot to drink. I still felt tipsy; I must have been, if I wasn't freaking out about the near-nudity and the unidentified male sleeping in my bed.

God, my stomach hurt. And I definitely needed some painkillers for that murderous head-ache of mine.

After I'd rinsed my gob out with mouthwash and splashed some water on my face I hurried back to my bedroom to see who was sleeping there. I thought about the undone bra, the ripped panties, and immediately felt like emptying the rest of my stomach. God, what had I done?

"I'm thinking that I should avoid that bathroom for a while. God, did you even get it in the toilet?"

Golden hair. Stubble. Chiselled and shirtless body. Underpants, luckily. The husky, easily recognizable voice. Smoker's cough.

Miles.

"Holey sweet baby Jesus."

Blankets and pillows were everywhere, as if they'd been thrown away by some maniac – which was probably me. Even my sheets weren't on the bed, except for one that was spread over Miles' legs. And there he was, lying in the tangle of the mess like nothing ever happened. Was this normal to him?

"Miles," I whispered, swallowing down some bile in my throat, "what exactly did we do last night?"

"I can't remember the details," he admitted, giving me a shrug. He'd clearly been as drunk as me last night. "But from the lack of our clothing and the condom wrappers I'd found beside the bed..."

"Wrappers? As in, more than one?"

"There were three."

Three. Okay, that explained the strange feeling between my legs. It had been a while since I'd experienced that, probably nearly a year at most, and it certainly hadn't been from somebody like Miles. The only similarity between the two incidents is that they both had been alcohol-induced and an absolute mistake.

I rubbed my fingers against my temples, overwhelmed with the feeling of frustration and embarrassment. Would Jayce find out? Or Liam?

Oh, God. Liam.

And then it all rushed back to me, as if I was replaying an awful nightmare which I liked – or didn't like – to call my life. I remembered the bar and drinking it up with Miles, and then the immaturity of our decision to play hide and go seek in the middle of the park. Liam and I had been paired together, we'd run to the sports club and broken in. He found out that we knew each other. I went home, obviously too upset to deal with life, and Miles...

Well, he came back with me. As a distraction.

Miles laid there, his defined arms lying behind his head. He was watching me with a strange sense of calmness, as if he was letting me have my mental breakdown in a nice atmosphere of tranquillity. Actually, who was I kidding? I was freaking out and the room felt like the inside of a washing machine in the last five minutes of its cycle.

"Viv," Miles finally spoke, his voice very soft and slow. His jaw twitched. "You don't need to freak out about this. We were both drunk and upset. It was all just a distraction."

"I know," I breathed, "but I don't need more drama, Miles. Can't you see that? This," I waved at his half-naked body wrapped in my sheets, "is too much. And please don't take that as a compliment. Or an insult."

Miles grinned at me, somewhat entertained. The fact he found something about it humorous should have made me angry but it actually helped to calm my anxiety. Maybe he was right; it didn't have to be a big deal. Just a silly hook-up. A one night stand...sort of.

"Come on V," Miles begged, leaning forward and pouting his lips like a twelve-year-old girl on social media. "Just go have a shower and get changed. I'll bring back some greasy food to cure that hangover of yours."

My brows pushed themselves together into a deep frown. "You're not hung-over?"

"I am," he admitted. "But I didn't get nearly as half as drunk as you did. I'll be better after some painkillers and a good ol' nap."

"Wait, what do you mean? How drunk was I?"

I didn't like the mischievous grin that began to grow on Miles's face one bit. "Well," he said, chuckling quietly as he indicated to his near-naked glory, "this was instigated by you."

So I must have been pretty fucking drunk.

"Oh shit," I breathed, feeling the familiar wave of nausea surge through my stomach, "I think I'm going to be sick again."

Although I hated to admit when Miles was right, he did make a good point when suggesting I took a shower and changed into some proper clothes that were not my ripped Target-brand underwear. I managed to safely stumble into the shower and run the hot water until it was a temperature somewhere comfortable between the Antarctic and Hell. Miles changed quickly before shouting that he was going across the street to order some brunch, since alcoholic delegates such as ourselves end up sleeping until eleven after a night of partying and...the-activity-that-shall-not-be-named.

As I sat comfortably on the edge of my bed, feeling slightly better after showering and changing into a pair of pyjama shorts and a baggy shirt, I thought about how things would be with Liam now that he'd put everything – well, nearly everything – together. I knew that the dreamy days were over and that we weren't seventeen anymore – we were twenty-one trying to make it somewhere bigger than this. Life isn't as simple as playing a song outside of somebody's window, trying to make them fall in love with you all over again.

I didn't know what I was expecting. Despite all of that, however, when I heard a knock at my door and opened it, I definitely hadn't expected to see Liam standing there.