The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(39)
“Big fucking deal. I like a good time. There is nothing wrong with me,” he spits.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“You know what . . . fuck this.” He turns and walks off into the darkness.
“You can’t heal the wound until you find the sore, Christopher,” I call after him.
“Go fuck him. I don’t even care,” he calls back.
I watch him walk into the darkness alone, and my shoulders slump. I take a long shaky inhale. Damn it.
How did that spiral so badly out of control?
I drag myself back inside and walk back to Zack. “Sorry,” I apologize. “I had to take a call.”
“That’s okay. The night is young.” He leans in and kisses my cheek, and I fake a smile.
I imagine Christopher walking home alone, and I feel like shit.
A real friend would have gone with him.
It’s 2:00 a.m. when I get back to the room.
With Christopher weighing heavily on my mind all night, things didn’t go to plan with Zach. The hostel is deserted, with everyone still out partying. I get my things out of my locker and take a long hot shower, dress in my pajamas, and walk into my room.
I flick the light on and see that Christopher is curled up in bed with his back to me. I quickly flick the light back off and climb in behind him. I snuggle up to his back and kiss his shoulder from behind.
“Don’t,” he murmurs.
I smile against his back.
“I’m not talking to you,” he mumbles.
“Good, because I’m going to sleep.”
“You showered?”
“Because I wanted a shower, not because I had sex.”
He stays silent, and I hug him tighter.
“Good night,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer me.
“Are you going to say good night?” I ask.
“Keep talking, and I’m kicking you out of bed.”
I smile into the darkness.
With his warm body and heavenly scent surrounding me, I drift into wonderland.
Bang, crash, boom!
“Sorry.” Bernadette laughs. She’s tripped over someone’s shoes.
Basil walks headfirst into the bunk bed and bounces onto the floor. The room is in a fit of giggles. Everyone has just arrived home, and they are rolling blind drunk.
Christopher’s arm is around me from behind, our bodies spooned up against each other.
“Hey.” Bernadette gasps loudly. “No hanky-panky between roommates, remember?”
“Go to bed, Bernadette,” Christopher snaps impatiently.
Basil goes to climb the ladder into his bed and falls spectacularly on the floor to the sound of everyone hysterically laughing.
Bodie tries to shush everyone. “Shh.”
I open my sleepy eyes to see that it’s daylight. “What time is it?”
Christopher picks up his phone. “Nine a.m.”
“Where have you guys been all night?” I frown.
“Beach party.”
“I fucked in the ocean,” Bodie slurs.
“With a sea monster,” Basil adds. They all burst out laughing again.
I focus enough to realize I have something hard in my back, and I frown.
“Dick. Out. Of. Back,” I grumble. “Now.”
“Sorry.” Christopher moves back from me. “It’s morning.”
We lie for a while. “I’m hungry,” I say. “If we don’t eat now, we will miss the free breakfast.”
“Hmm.” Christopher moans.
“Come on.” I get out of bed and put my hair up. I walk out the door to get my clothes from my locker, and Eduardo is standing patiently in the corridor.
He smiles. “Hello.”
“Hi.” I frown. “What . . .” I look around. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to help Mr. Christo.”
“Oh.” I smile. My god, he’s so cute. “I’ll get him. Wait here.”
I walk back in the room and drop to my knees on the bed. “You have a little friend waiting out there for you.”
Christopher frowns. “Huh?”
“Eduardo is out there waiting to help Mr. Christo.”
He screws up his face. “He is not.”
“He is. Get up.”
Christopher climbs out of bed and walks into the corridor. His hair is all disheveled, and he’s wearing only boxer shorts. “Hey, buddy.” He frowns. “What’s going on?”
“I’m here to help you,” Eduardo replies eagerly. “What would you like me to do today?”
I smile as I watch. Cuteness overload.
“Oh,” Christopher replies as he scratches his head. “Umm . . . okay.” He looks over to me as if confused what to say next.
“Why don’t you give us ten minutes to get ready, and then we can talk about it?” I reply.
“All right.”
“Meet you in the restaurant?” I ask him.
He nods and happily trots off.
Christopher watches him disappear. “I’ve got no fucking jobs for this kid to do,” he whispers.
“Then you better make some up.”
An hour later, we walk down the street, in search of coffee.