The Way to Game the Walk of Shame(3)

Oh god. He probably didn’t know me. Just because I knew who he was didn’t mean he knew who I was. Aside from my choking out “Thank you” after he’d saved me at the pool, we’d never spoken to each other before (or since). Not to mention, I had looked like a drowned rat that day, so I kind of hoped he didn’t remember. Besides, he must have saved hundreds of girls in the past year. I’d even seen a girl pretend to drown in front of him just to get some lip action.

Nah, Evan couldn’t possibly remember. I was just an average one-night—wait, we hadn’t slept together, so scratch that. I was a random, strange girl in his room. And it was going to stay that way.

I climbed to my feet, intending to make a quick escape, when a wave of nausea caught me by surprise. My mouth filled with a bitter taste. Urgh. I pressed a hand against my lips as my vision blurred.

Evan reached forward as though he was going to catch me. Either me or my vomit. I automatically backed up a few steps until my back was pressed against his desk chair.

“The bathroom’s over there,” he said with a jab over his right shoulder. “I guess you’re a bit of a lightweight, huh?”

Pride made me swallow back the bile that struggled to climb out of my throat. “No, I’m all right,” I choked out.

“Are you sure? I mean, you really shouldn’t be keeping it in. Especially if you’re going to eat breakfast. You know, eggs, cereal, or bacon. Or sausages, if you prefer that. Me, I like the crunchiness of bacon. Especially when paired with some warm pancakes, gooey butter, and syrup that drips all over the place and runs down—”

The images he painted made me want to give up the fight and hurl on the carpet right there. “No, just—stop. I can’t—” I stopped trying to breathe since the air was making everything worse, and I clenched my lips tightly together instead. I squeezed my eyes closed. I will not throw up. I forbid myself to throw up.

My eyes popped open again when Evan pried my fingers away from my face. I was too surprised by his touch to react. His laughing gray eyes twinkled down at me. He placed an unopened water bottle in my hand and wrapped my fingers around it. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

“I can’t.”

“Trust me. I know how to handle hangovers better than you.” His hands moved up to my shoulders, and he pushed me down on the plush leather chair. “Seriously, just drink it. It’s not poison. I promise.”

I eyed the water. “And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?”

“No, you’ll take my word for it because you don’t have a choice,” he said with a snort. “Besides, if you throw up in here, I’ll have to clean it up, and you can bet your ass I’m not doing that.”

Hmm. He had a point. I took the bottle and forced myself to drink. It threatened to come back up, but I didn’t stop until it was empty. My full stomach bounced uncomfortably, but I didn’t feel like I was going to die anymore.

As Evan watched me, his brows furrowed together until they were practically one dark-blond line. Suddenly, he reached out and touched my forehead.

I jerked my head back and batted his hand away, despite the fact that it was nice and warm against my clammy skin. My fingertips massaged my forehead, and I willed the whole situation to go away. More than anything, I wished this was just a bad nightmare and that I was actually all snug in bed. “Shit, I’m in so much trouble. I’m supposed to meet Brian about the alumni speech. But not before I KILL Carly and—why are you grinning?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” His smile grew so wide that his eyes became slits. “You don’t look like the type of girl who curses much. It’s sort of weird.”

I stared at him. My life was turned upside down, and that was the most important thing on his mind right now? “Well, I do when the situation calls for it. And believe me, this calls for it. Shit. Shit. Shit.” I actually wasn’t used to cursing, but this was a special occasion. And I was offended by his comment. Like I was some type of Goody Two-Shoes. I would have thought waking up in his bed should have eliminated that possibility.

And why did I even care what he thought of me?

Evan let out a low whistle. “Okay, I get it, Taylor. You’re a badass. Don’t make me have to censor you.”

“Whatever. I’m sure you’ve said much worse—” Wait a second, did he just … “You called me Taylor.”

“Um, yeah. That is your name.”

“But how do you know my name?”

“Because it’s written on your arm?” He pointed at my left arm just as I tried to cover it up. “Besides, we do go to school together.”

My jaw dropped. Crap, he knew ME.

I leapt to my feet. The nausea and headache suddenly vanished. It was as if the fear and anxiety had absorbed all the alcohol. Best cure for a hangover? Imagine your reputation tarnished in an instant. Better than tomato juice, or whatever people drank to sober up.

“Listen, Evan. You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this. Ever.” I said the last word as firmly as I could, channeling my dad in the courtroom when he intimidated a witness. “No one can ever know that I spent the night here. Especially with you.”

His forehead wrinkled. “And what’s so bad about me? You know, it may be hard to believe, but girls are usually pretty happy when they wake up in my room. Perky, too.”