Fade Out (The Morganville Vampires #7)(51)

When Vee and I realized just what was expected of us at Gavin’s party, I told her no. Actually, I told her hell no. But the pleading look she gave me completely deflated my resolve. She was going through with it, regardless of whether or not I came. And how could I not? How could I let her go off with these crazy chicks and dance—no, strip—in front of the whole college football team?

It sounded so cliché; like some awful hazing initiation.

But it was really happening. And Vee was really going for it. I chugged back the beer, then told her I wouldn’t let her go on her own. She argued, knowing that this was way out of my comfort zone. But I could not, in good conscience, let my friend debase herself alone.

I hadn’t actually planned to strip myself—just tag along to watch out for Vee. But then Jessica had to hit a nerve. A very sore one. “You always do what’s expected of you, don’t you?” she said. Ugh. My stomach roils just remembering those words, and how they tipped my already fragile sense of self over the freaking edge.

With my father pressuring me with an engagement to Lucas…and Ryder’s harsh argument having devastated me so thoroughly…I had to prove to myself that I could let go and make my own choices. Just act on impulse.

Oh, I so did. I threw back two shots of vodka with animated force and suited up in little more than a G-string and bikini top and found the first a-hole to prove it to.

Beck was not my first choice, but he was there. And he was close enough to Ryder. I needed Ryder to see that I can, in fact, take control of my own life. Only I guess I’m not strong enough to take control over my damn stomach yet. I felt the hot bile coating my throat. I knew it was coming, but no way was I going to let my stomach rule.

I lost, obviously. My stomach always wins. Years of training myself to purge on command has worked against me in a horribly embarrassing outcome. I didn’t even drink that much, really.

As I hunker over, saliva filling my mouth, I feel Ryder smooth back my hair. He’s actually holding it. It’s like some bad rom-com movie. I feel like a total cliché. I probably look like one, too. His other hand is massaging my back, and my stomach burns as the bile begins to worm its way back up my throat.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I manage to say, my throat closing up.

“Come on. I’ll carry you,” Ryder says, and I groan.

“Please don’t.” I chance a look at him. His eyes are clear and concerned. I can’t bring myself to beg, but I cannot allow Ryder to carry me out in front of those guys once more; it’s getting stupid.

He nods once, sits back to pull his jacket off, then wraps it around my shoulders. The sentiment hits me in my chest with a fierce ache. I’m awful for how I was just behaving, and I don’t even fully understand why I was being such a bitch. The mix of liquor and rage over my father’s demands is like setting a flame to a fuse. The explosion was inevitable.

For one second, I just wanted to lash out—to do something so out of character that I could pretend I was truly the one handling the reins of my life. I’m such a joke.

My head spins as I stand, and Ryder wraps an arm around my waist. I don’t argue as he leads me past the debauchery going on in the bar. Oh God, but I’m a hypocrite.

Once I’m in the bathroom, I splash water over my face, then curse. I put on way more makeup than I normally wear, and mascara is bleeding all around my eyes. Awesome. I think about grabbing my purse from the back, but don’t want to call any more attention to myself. I suck it up and dab at the caked-on blackness with a moistened paper towel.

After I rinse my mouth, I hear a knock at the door. Tentatively cracking it, I see Ryder holding my purse and clothes. “Thought you might want these.”

There’s no judgment in his voice, but shame cloaks me just the same. I thank him and then quickly rush into a stall to change. I finish making myself look halfway decent, though there’s nothing to be done for the glitter coating my skin, and quickly rinse my mouth with mouthwash.

When I exit, Ryder is leaning against the wall, waiting for me. There’s a whole show of semi-naked girls dancing and writhing behind him, but his focus is on my pathetic self.

“Walk?” he offers. “The cold air will help clear your head, and also help with the nausea.”

I nod. But then, “Vee. I can’t leave her…”

A wan smile touches his mouth. “She left with Gavin a few minutes ago.”

Relief floods me. “Thank you.” He makes a face, but I know it was his doing as to why Vee’s now away from here, with the guy she adores. Maybe…I don’t know. Maybe this really was the only way she could get Gavin’s notice, and maybe I should stop being so judgmental.

Ryder escorts me through the bar, his hand in mine. The frigid air is a shock to my system, and I suck in a fast breath. “I’m so stupid,” I breathe out.

He doesn’t respond—to agree or disagree—which sets my nerves on edge, but leads me down toward the lose sand of the beach. The moonless night encases us in a heavy darkness, the water black, breaking with a blue-gray crest against the shadowed shore. It all looks so ethereal; a dark world lit by the stars reflecting off the glassy ocean.

“How do you feel?” Ryder asks, interrupting the eerie tranquility.

“Like an *,” I admit. He turns toward me swiftly, his mouth parting to follow up, but I wave my hand. “I know you meant my stomach. And I’m feeling a little better. The beach always seems to calm me.”