The Second Worst Love Story Ever (+18)

18. Vibes

I woke up with a beautiful woman lying by my side, but my hangover was so intense I was incapable of appreciating it. Okay, maybe I was capable of appreciating it a little bit. She was gorgeous, even waking up, her legs the size of a freight train. Flawless skin, hair, the color of sweet honey. Her eyes blinked open to stare at me with its aqua intensity.

"Morning, handsome." Her smile matched mine.

"Morning,'' I answered, wondering why the hell I had brought a girl to my place. I almost never did this. It made impossible to get rid of the clingies. "Sleep okay, sweetheart?"

"Wonderfully. You?"

"Awesome, thanks to you," I told her and watched redness creeping up her face. A shy one, how cute.

"Good."

"You really made me work for it last night, baby."

"Okay, now you're just messing with me." She got up and started dressing. "You ready for breakfast?"

"Say what?''

"You don't remember, huh?" She put her blouse back on. "Of course... it makes sense, given how much you had to drink last night."

"I did chug on a lot of booze, didn't I?"

"Well, never mind... This was fun."

She was about to leave when I jumped out of bed to chase her. "Wait! Wait! I'm sorry that I forgot, okay?"

"No harm, no foul, darling. I'll see myself out."

I held her forearm. "Look, I'm a man of my word, lady--"

"Bree."

"I know that!"

"No, you don't! You can't even remember your own name right now."

"The point is: if I promised you breakfast, I have to deliver. Come on, don't let me mark my spotless honor like that."

She burst in derisive laughter, but that was good enough for me. "Alright. Breakfast." Her eyes shot to my waist, and she blushed again. "But you might Wanna put on some clothes first."

As Bree filled me in on what she knew, my memory started to come back, filling the gaps and putting together the remaining pieces of the puzzle that the previous night had been. Gunner and I had taken a million tequila shots, banging the glasses on the table of the VIP lounge every time, yelling and bonding like two cavemen.

I had drunk like a possum after I realized what a nice guy I was screwing over, in hopes to drown my conscience into silence. The more we'd get along, the more I'd drink, entering a vicious circle. The only problem with that plan was that I got bold and stopped caring about my digressions so much.

At one point during a group discussion which subject I can't remember for obvious reasons, I shot Val a bored look so we could get the hell out of that conversation, an old habit that she immediately understood. She whispered something to Gunner before guiding me to the dance floor. I took a good look at him, just to be safe and, oddly enough, he seemed to barely notice we were walking away.

Who was this guy?

"What did you say to him?" I asked when we started to dance -- as well behaved as possible, may I add.

"I told him I owed you a dance, that we did this every year. It's not a lie," she said, referring to one of our million traditions.

I danced with her for a couple of songs, trying not to come off as too intense, but it was no easy task. Watching her dance like that, all sexy, swaying her hips, looking at me like I was the shit... It gave me all kinds of wrong ideas. All I wanted to do was take her to the man's room, hike up her skirt and passionately fuck her inside a stall, leaving as much love bites as I could all over her body, to mark her and claim her, cause she should belong to me. Like I said, bold and careless.