Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
The sheet and blanket slinks down my body and settles at my waist. My hands drift to my head to keep it in place as a tortured groan escapes from me. The noise would be startling if I didn’t know where it originated from. If I were in my own bed, I’d toss the covers over my head and attempt to sleep whatever this is off, but that’s not possible.
Not when I don’t have any idea where I am.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt more out of sorts or confused.
“Here,” a deep voice says, shoving a plastic bottle into my trembling hand. “Drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”
Grateful for the water, I twist off the cap and bring the bottle to my lips. As liquid dribbles from the corner of my mouth, my gaze settles on the boy who drops onto the desk chair while staring at me with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
“Thank you,” I croak after downing half the contents and swiping the back of my hand across my face.
“No problem.”
Breaking eye contact, I glance around the tiny space before my gaze resettles on whiskey-colored eyes. “What am I doing here?”
That question has Duke Carmichael leaning forward and resting bare elbows on outstretched knees. “You were pretty fucked up last night when I found you in Kingsley’s game room. I didn’t think you’d want to be dropped off at home in that condition, so I brought you here instead to sleep it off.”
“Fucked up?” I echo stupidly before shaking my head.
As soon as I make the slight movement, I realize it’s a mistake and groan as the ache in my brain grows until it feels like my head will explode. I’ve never been prone to migraines, but I imagine this is what one must feel like.
“How much did you drink last night?”
I search my memories. “I…can’t remember.”
The thing is, I’ve never been much of a drinker. It’s kind of hard to keep your wits about you if you’re shitfaced. And around Jasper and the crowd he runs with, that can be dangerous. Even when I’ve been stone-cold sober, situations have turned hazardous.
But last night, I was with Austin. Attempting to summon any other specifics makes my head throb harder.
With a frown, his brow furrows. “You must have had something. It was hard to wake you up and when I did, you were barely coherent.”
Goosebumps break out across my skin before scampering along my arms.
That doesn’t make sense.
I squeeze my eyes tight and rack my brain, trying to dredge up even the tiniest detail, but it all remains blank. It’s frightening. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. I’ve never had a, for lack of a better word, hole in my memory.
“Did you take something?” he asks, drawing my attention back to him.
Take something?
What does that mean?
One second slowly ticks by and then another before the implication hits me.
My eyes bulge. “Drugs?”
“Yeah.” He shifts on the chair, all the while steadily holding my gaze. “There were plenty of people passing shit around last night. Did you try something?”
“No,” I croak, shocked he would ask. “I barely drink.” My tongue darts out to moisten parched lips before I tack on, “You know that.” Hurt floods through me.
He shrugs. “People do stupid shit. Especially when they’re at parties. It happens all the time.”
Maybe so, but I’ve never done drugs. Not even pot. My mother would kill me.
Shit.
Mom.
I drag a hand over my face.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” he prompts.
The game and watching Austin dominate on the field. And then deciding to go to Kingsley’s, even though I should have gone straight home afterward. She’ll probably ground me for life. The woman has been all over my ass since the breakup with Jasper. All this will do is reinforce her opinion that I can’t be trusted to make good decisions.
When I remain silent, his voice softens. “Delilah?”
For a second time, I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and do a quick mental rewind.
I went to school.
Came home.
Watched the game.
Waited for Austin afterward.
We made out in the front seat of his SUV before heading to the party. We were only going to stay for an hour. The place had been packed and we headed outside.
That’s where it all goes dark.
There’s just…nothing.
Why can’t I remember?
My hand drifts upward to my temple as if that will help jar something. “My phone,” I mumble. “I need to text Mom. She’s probably freaking out by now.”
Or worse.
Much worse.
Duke leaps to his feet, eating up the distance that separates us when I spy my cell on the nightstand.
Just as I reach for the silver device, he barks, “Wait!”
My hand stalls midair as my gaze widens, locking on him as he snatches the phone before I can get to it.
An expression I can’t quite identify lurks in his eyes. “There’s something I need to tell you first.”