Exotic

~ morning after ~

I was awoken abruptly the next morning by a harsh knocking on my door. I groaned and rolled over, groping blinding in the air. "I'm getting dressed!"

Anything to keep the knocker out of my room.

"Phone for you," Reece called through the door, voice oddly chipper. "Aaron."

I staggered to the door, stuck my head through the gap, and grabbed it out of his hand. I shut the door in his face and made my way back to the bed, hitting speakerphone and dropped it gracelessly on the pillow beside my head. I wrapped my covers around my shoulders, keeping my eyes shut.

"Miles?"

"Speaking," I mumbled.

"Are you alright?" Aaron asked anxiously. "You weren't answering your mobile."

I swept my eyes across my bedside table, where my phone would usually be. My eyes caught the alarm clock; it had just gone noon. "Just woke up."

"Just woke up? It's midday."

"Late night. What can I do for you?"

Aaron murmured in disbelief over the other side of the line. "I wanted to see if you wanted to come to the cinema at four. Max is taking Jess and Maya won't let them go alone."

I laughed. "So you want me to save you from being the third wheel for your brother and his newest squeeze?"

"Please."

I rolled over onto my back, finally pressing the phone to my ear. "Fine. Are you picking me up?"

"Of course I am, freeloader," he told me, and the sighed. "I swear you only hang out with me because I have a car."

"No, no way!" I mocked outrage. "I love you for so many other things! Like... your personality! You are so nice. When you give me lifts in your car."

"Lovely," Aaron grumbled. "See you at three-thirty."

He hung up. I tossed the phone aside and lay back to stare at the ceiling. I wondered where I'd left my phone. It hadn't been the first time I'd forgotten it in a dressing room, I would be able to collect it as soon as I called Jamie and confirmed.

But Jamie was going to be pissed off. But I'd never walked out of a show before. Jamie had a three-strikes-and-you're-out policy with employees and friendships alike. He would understand the circumstances had been unique.

Wait.

The night before came back with a jolt. I sat up with a gasp and bought my hands up to my face, a la Home Alone.

Caleb Proust knew who I was.

Caleb Proust knew who I was.

CALEB PROUST KNEW WHO I WAS.

I was so screwed. I leapt out of bed, looking down at myself. I was still wearing Caleb's clothes from last night, the shirt wrinkled from sleep. I ripped it off my body with scrabbling fingers and threw it halfway across the room in sheer horror, backing away until my back hit the wall, my head screaming choice profanities.

I sank to the floor, hands knotted into fists. I pressed them into my eyes as I felt liquid escape them. I would not be scared. I refused to be broken. I had just as much dirt on him as he had on me. My life was not over. My life could not be over.

There was another knock at my door. "All good?"

Usually, Reece wouldn't have done me the courtesy of letting me sleep as late midday, especially if I had ignored and run out on him without permission the night before. It was surprising and suspicious.