❝Calm your tits, man. You got your fucking dark roast latte with an extra shot of fuckboy all over my arm!❞
During an evening in May, Tasha Aquino finally acquires her chance at an adventure. However, it comes at a deadly price and her seemingly un...
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sixteen ◌ apologies
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You could tell me a bus ran me over, backed up, trampled my body again, and I would believe you. Waking up that Sunday morning only reminded me of why pain killers existed. My muscles were on fire, and every little movement caused me to wince from the tenderness of my body.
When I finally found the strength to open my eyes, they were met with a flood of sunshine streaming from the window. I squinted from the intense amount of light, and as my eyes adjusted to the illumination, I was also met with the backside of a tattooed, muscular fellow.
"What happened?" I groggily asked, my voice cracking. "I feel like I've been strapped to the bumper of a bus and driven around the block a few times."
"You, Tash, are hungover," the half naked man sitting on the edge of the bed turned over his shoulder— Harry gawked at me with delight.
"It could also be for the fact that you fell about a dozen times last night trying to parkour your way through French Quarter," Liam chimed in. He stood up from the armchair and strolled to the foot of the bed with his arms crossed. His eyebrows narrowed in on me with a quizzical expression. It was as if he were analyzing me like a math problem.
"My sister," I breathed as a wave of realization drowned me. I shot up and my eyes widened with fear. "Some man has her. She was at the bar last night! We have to find her, maybe she's still here in New Orleans. This could streamline—"
"—Hey, hey, hey," Liam interrupted. I abruptly ceased my words and glared at him intently. "Calm down, Tasha."
"Did you just tell me to calm down?" I spat. A demonic gurgle erupted from me, and I was close to hurling my fists at the dark haired boy.
"Tasha listen... Kat wasn't there. It was a hallucination," Niall was suddenly next to me, with a bottle of water and a case of Ibuprofen. When he and I latched onto each other's gazes, all I could think about was that damn kiss; that stupid mistake during a moment of emotional stupidity.
Silently, I observed the boys for a moment. The dark circles beneath Liam's eyes, the messy hair atop his head, and the eerie aura encapsulating his body, caused him to look like a cynical sociopath. The same could be said for Niall, who stood at the foot of the bed with a spine tingling touch.
"Why do you all look like shit?" I wondered out loud, popping a pill into my mouth before chasing it down with cold water.
As always, the boys darted their eyes amongst each other. They shot an array of expressions, perfecting their silent language.
"You were all roofied last night," Harry revealed after a few moments. He no longer sat on the bed, and instead stood against the wall with his arms crossed. He finally had a shirt on, and as much as I despised Harry, his muscular body was stupidly distracting.
