Hanging On (Jessica Brodie Diaries #2)(59)

Making the decision for him, I yelled good-night to Adam. I said good-night to William, ignored the unjustified hurt on his face, turned on my heel, and headed to the house. I conjured up a good, fast stride with head held high, trying to wipe away all the drunk so William knew it was a conscious decision to walk away, but that dang Fred ruined everything. He was trained to stay out of sight until the property was breached, and had probably been frolicking with the girls, so I’d forgotten all about him. Then the big bugger was running at me in a full sprint. He gave me a playful, though fast, nudge, expecting me to squeal and pet him. The dog might have a good idea of my mood, but he didn’t have a clue when I was trying to look moody and unaffected!

Without my normal ability to sidestep his excited greeting prance, nor the continuous ability to even walk in a straight line, I got tangled up in his body and went down with a tumble. He, being a young dog, thought that meant it was playtime, and pounced on my back, growling and nipping and having a great time. I was not looking awesome.

By the time I righted myself I had hair everywhere and my dress was clinging to damp legs. I risked a glance at William, hoping he was in the limo and gone by the time I did my unsexy dive, but instead, he was standing by the open limo door, watching my fray with a small, sad smile on his face.

The guy was sentimental or something, because spending the night with me in the shape I was in wasn’t the stuff of legends. But whatever, I’d take it.

I held my head up high and put on the jets back to my cottage, fighting with Fred every ten feet to stop freaking bumping my legs. By the time I made the gate, finally, the limo and William were gone.

I took a long, ragged breath. I was hurt and pissed that he forgot me, but I also hated that he wasn’t with me. It was a no-win situation.

When I got to my cottage I opened the door and let Fred check it out. I leaned on the door jam, feeling sorry for myself, waiting for the doggy all-clear.

“JESSICA?”

It was impossible to tell who was yelling at me. A girl. A friend. A drunk. All I could tell.

I hollered back something that sounded like, “EEEEaaaaaRRRR.”

It’s tough when not even the person speaking knows what the hell she is saying.

"'S William with you?" That was Lump.

"No. Why?"

"We're coming swim. To swim. Naked!" I could hear giggling.

All four girls came running, falling, stumbling and laughing through the grass to get to the pool. I switched the light on and uncovered the hot tub. I could see another shape coming as well.

"Gladis?" I called.

"Yes, dear. I'm here to make sure no one drowns.”

Fred bounded to the girls and took off running. He loved to prowl at night. He also loved a party. The dog was meant for me.

By the time the first girl entered the light, Jane, she was half naked, followed by three more half na**d gals. Half became full two seconds before Claire fell in.

“Can Irish swim?” Gladis asked with a wry smile.

“That old biddie can give some abuse!” Claire yelled.

Jane did a lopsided cannonball, covering Claire in a spray of pool water.

Gladis went into my cottage, giving me a slight push toward the pool as she passed, and turned on a small outside reading light I didn’t know existed. She settled in to read her book while everyone else jumped in, including me.

I woke up on my bed na**d with dried drool down the side of my face. My head was pounding and I had a half-eaten burrito on my night stand. My skin was dry from the chlorine in the pool, but hard from last night’s crusty make-up. I was positive I did not look my best.

I got up with one hand firmly on my head, trying to keep the pounding from cracking my skull. I stood still, wondering if I would need to sprint to the toilet.

Steady on.

No. I would not be throwing up. Thank you to William for stocking the bar with quality alcohol.

My heart wrenched. William.

I was heartbroken that he forgot me last night. That other things were more important than making sure I was okay. Or at least in the car. I was also mad at my drunk friends for leaving me. Although, admittedly, each of them had done it before, and I had done it to them—when you get too drunk, sometimes you just gotta get out of there, phone tree be damned.

But I had never forgotten a date. Let alone a boyfriend. Especially if I would be staying at the dude’s house. Seriously, it was a sign of how low I was on his list that he left without me.

Worrying about it wouldn’t help matters. Plus, I had a bunch of friends in misery that needed a hostess. Or at least someone to share their pain.

I looked at the clock. Noon. I wondered how much sleep I got. We got home about two, maybe a little before. Swam around for some time. Apparently raided my fridge for a midnight snack. Passed out.

How long could all that have taken?

I put on some loose fitting clothes and stepped outside. Someone was picking up about a case of beer bottles. Looked like a mad gardener.

He looked up and hit me with a brown eyed scowl.

Yeah, the gardener.

I hurried away thinking; a case would’ve taken a while to get through, since we were already loaded. And swimming.

I really hoped Gladis wouldn’t be kicking me out. The fact that we were naked, screaming, and randomly throwing beer bottles around the yard meant weren’t being all that respectful. We probably woke the whole neighborhood, forget about the house.