Blind Kiss(29)

I was mortified but I knew it was all true. Foggy memories were coming back to me in fragments. “Umm . . .”

“Nothing to say? You had a lot to say last night. You told me I had a nice body and a beautiful face.” He laughed.

Oh god, I did say that.

“And that I was the smartest guy you’d ever met.”

“I never said that!”

He squinted. “Well, I thought I heard you say it.”

I tried to swat at him but missed. “What time is it? And do I smell pancakes?”

“French toast, actually. And it’s noon.”

“Oh my god, my parents are gonna kill me.”

He held out his palm. “I called your mom and gave her my address. I asked if she wanted to come and get you, or if I should let you sleep it off. She said she was heading out the door, to the spray-tan lady, or some shit like that, so I just let you keep sleeping.”

“Geez,” I scowled. “She didn’t even care?”

He walked toward me. “Penny—”

“Don’t come any closer.”

“I’m not gonna touch you. I slept on the couch, I swear. I left Jackie Chan in here to keep you company.”

“I’m just warning you, I have the breath of a very sick dragon, and it feels like there are tiny sweaters covering my teeth.”

“Yeah. I know, I can smell it from here.”

“Thanks.”

“You can use my toothbrush if you want.” He looked like he felt sorry for me.

“She takes my sister to the spray-tanner for pageants.”

“What?” Gavin came over and sat on the end of the bed. “You’re kidding?”

“No, it’s absolutely deplorable.” I looked up to the ceiling. “I still can’t believe she wasn’t worried about me sleeping at a stranger’s house with his forty-year-old tattoo-artist roommate.”

He picked up a guitar and starting strumming. “Well, she doesn’t know that part, obviously. Anyway, Mike’s out of town; otherwise, he would have gotten quite the show last night. You ready for some French toast? It’s my very own recipe.”

Who is this person?

He was strumming the song “Just Like a Woman,” trying to work out the chords. “French toast sounds good, but I need my clothes.”

“I’m washing them in the laundry room in the basement. They were in pretty bad shape, Penny.”

“Oh god.”

“My T-shirt’s not good enough for you?”

“Well, I have nothing on underneath it.”

“It fits you like a dress, and anyway, I saw everything last night. I mean everything.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

I leaned over and socked him in the arm. “Don’t do that to me. I’m embarrassed enough.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, except for maybe your attempt at a half-naked pirouette in the hallway at three a.m.”

I dropped my face into my hands and groaned. “Noooo. Ugh.”

“It was actually really cute. You ran into the wall and starting cracking up.”

The moment Ling had called, Gavin was still blurry in my mind. Had he just come rushing over? Was he sitting around waiting for her call? Did he roofie me?

“What were you doing when Ling called?”

“I was working on a paper and messing around on my guitar. I had just gotten into bed when she called.”

Oh, the image of him getting into bed . . . “Working on a paper, my ass.”

“No, I swear. I have to graduate, Penny. I’m twenty-three.”

“What did Ling say when she called?”

“I believe her exact words were, ‘Tiny Dancer can’t hold her liquor and my cat pooped on my couch, so can you get your hot butt over here and help?’?”

“And you just jumped in your car and came to get me.”

“Yes. That’s exactly right. You’re welcome. Now come on, let’s go eat.” He put down the guitar and yanked me out of bed. As we walked through his apartment toward the kitchen, I shuffled behind him while tugging at the bottom of my T-shirt. He pointed to the couch. “That’s where I slept.”

There’s no way his entire body fit on that couch.

“See, Penny? Already so many sacrifices I’ve made for our friendship. My feet hang two feet off that thing.”

We moved toward the breakfast bar. I sat on a stool while he went around to the other side to serve up his homemade French toast. He’d already sifted powdered sugar and added sliced-up strawberries to the plates, which made my heart and stomach do a little somersault. “Impressive,” I said.

“You don’t have to eat all of it but you should put something in your stomach.”

“Okay.” My hangover was starting to really kick in. “This looks delicious but I feel awful.”

“What were you drinking last night? Tequila?”

“And beer.” I ate half the French toast and pushed the plate away. Gavin immediately grabbed it and set it in the sink.

“You need a little hair of the dog and a nap while your clothes dry.” He started moving around the kitchen, whipping something up. A few minutes later, he handed me a glass full of tomato juice.

“Uhhh, what’s this?”