The Way to Game the Walk of Shame(4)

“Uh, hello?” I grabbed the picture of Boobs Girl off the ground and shoved it in his face.

Evan stared blankly down at the photo and scratched his head, making his hair even more disheveled. My stomach flopped.

“I don’t get it.”

Even though it wasn’t possible, I could practically feel my blood pressure rising. I ran my fingers through my own hair, jerking a bit at the clumpy tangles. “Look, I’m sure you’re right. Plenty of girls would love to be here right now. Anyone but me. Seriously. I’m not that kind of girl! I’m a Columbia girl. A future lawyer like my dad. I don’t want be lumped in with a group of bimbos who give pictures of themselves in tiny string bikinis to random guys.”

Evan narrowed his eyes, but I could tell that he was hurt by my rant. A pang of guilt hit me. “That’s not—”

“I know I’m being a jerk.” My hands dropped to my sides. Who was I to judge them when I was in the same position? Although technically, he was the one sleeping around, not them. So if there was finger-pointing, it should be at him. “They’re not bimbos. I’m sure they’re all very nice. And pretty, from the … little that I can actually see. Maybe their cameras slipped and they accidentally took a picture of their boobs. How do I know? Water can be pretty slippery.”

“No, I mean, this is a picture of her in her bra.” He leaned toward me and tapped the picture still in my hand.

I dropped the picture like it burned and watched it flutter to the carpet—thankfully, face down. “So, like I said, we should just forget about last night. Not that I actually remember—I mean, it was nothing.”

Evan clenched his fist to his bare chest and doubled over. “Ouch. And here I was pulling out all my best moves for you.”

My cheeks burned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I was joking.”

“Oh.”

“You’re right, though. We should just forget this,” he continued, gesturing toward the bed and then at me. “Whatever this was never happened. We don’t even know each other. Hey, do you need a ride home?”

I shoved him back when he took a few steps toward the door. “No, I don’t need a ride! What part of this didn’t happen don’t you understand? There will be no rides, no talking, not even a glance between us in the future. Got that?”

“But what if I need to return your underwear or something?”

“You don’t have my—” My hands lowered to my hips, and I almost checked in front of him. “Ha-ha, very funny.”

The corners of his mouth jerked up into a smile again. “I try.”

“Well, from now on, there will be no more mention of my underwear or any other undergarments to anyone.” I held out a hand to him. “Deal?”

Was it my imagination, or did his eyes drop to check me out? His gaze was back on mine in an instant, so I couldn’t be sure. Still, I tugged at the thin straps of my tank top and wrapped my arm across my small chest. I nodded toward my outstretched hand. “Deal?” I repeated, louder this time.

His hand grasped mine, practically dwarfing it. His thumb grazed my knuckles and sent shivers up and down my spine. I forced myself to stand still and stare up at his face, hurting my neck in the process.

“Deal.”





2

{Taylor}


The two-mile walk home took forever. Within minutes, I regretted not accepting Evan’s offer to drive me home. I knew why it would have been a bad idea, but with each painful step, the reasons disappeared.

One thing’s for sure, these sandals were definitely not made for walking.

Finally home, I barely had time to sneak into the bathroom to throw up before my parents caught me. Kimmy, my nine-year-old baby sister, was sitting at the top of the stairway when I rushed past. She started to call out my name, but I motioned for her to shush. The sweetheart nodded solemnly and mimicked zipping her lips shut.

There was a knock on the bathroom door a few minutes later. “Taylor? I didn’t think you’d be home so soon. I called your phone earlier, but you didn’t pick up, so I called Carly and she told me you were still asleep.”

My hands automatically flew to my pockets, even though I knew my phone wasn’t there. I must have left it at the party or something. “Yeah, sorry, Mom. I think the ringer is off or something,” I called out, trying to sound as normal as I could.

“It’s okay. So did you have fun at the party? Did it help take your mind off things?”

That was an understatement. “Yeah, I can honestly say it really did.”

“I knew it would!” I could hear the glee in her voice. “Do you want some breakfast? I made your favorite. French toast with a side of mushroom hash browns. Heavy on the mushrooms.”

Urgh, more food talk. I plopped down next to the toilet again, feeling crappy both inside and out. “Maybe a little later? Let me shower first, okay?”

“Sure.”

Yeah, there was no way I could hide this hangover from Mom and Dad. Especially Dad. That man could detect any hint of weakness and lies. Which is why he’s a great lawyer. Although right now, I wasn’t so proud of those skills.

Once the coast was clear, I poked my head out of the bathroom to check. The hall was empty. Only Kimmy still sat by the top of the stairs, like a guard dog with braids.