Anyone But Nick (Anyone But... #3) - Penelope Bloom Page 0,50
if she was really holding back thoughts like that? Then I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
I’d been doing everything in my power to bury my feelings for her. The only thing giving me the willpower had been the belief that I was doing the right thing. Now, though? I wasn’t so sure it was right, after all.
Chapter 15
MIRANDA
I would say I opened my eyes, but that would imply there was no struggle in the act. The reality was that I had to pry my eyes open with what little power my eyelids had. They felt crusty and dry. The faint light streaming through the window wasn’t helping my pounding head, and I had the worst case of morning breath I’d ever had. I breathed against the back of my hand, sniffed, and reeled back. “Jesus,” I muttered.
“Just Nick, unfortunately.”
I jerked my head toward the sound of his voice. “What the hell are you doing in my room?” I spotted a small bottle of mouthwash on his nightstand and drained the whole thing, swishing aggressively, and then realized I had nowhere to spit, so I swallowed it and winced against the burn.
“I take it you don’t remember last night?” Nick asked.
Oh no. I lifted the covers and peeked under. I silently thanked God that I was still fully clothed. I’d done a lot of things in life that I regretted, but blackout drunken sex had never been one of them.
Last night started to come back to me out of order. I remembered nearly throwing up while riding a golf cart. I remembered sending some kind of text to . . . “Did I . . . happen to text you something? Because I was not completely in the right state of mind, and I hope you’ll cut me some slack if I said anything out of line.”
Nick licked his lips. There was something different in his face. The coldness I had seen come and go from him didn’t feel like it was momentarily gone this time. It felt like it was completely gone. “You might have sent me something. And it probably could’ve been considered out of line, but I enjoyed it.”
I reached for my purse and pulled my phone out. I needed to know what I’d sent, and, from the look of amusement in his eyes, Nick was looking forward to the moment when I saw it. I pulled up my texts. God. There was a picture of me smiling with half-lidded eyes and my dress pulled tight against my ass. I’d even sent an obnoxious caption to him. “Wait,” I said. I suddenly remembered Max and his stupid high school war stories. I’d gone to get drinks with him, but ended up in Nick’s room? “What happened last night?”
“Your date seemed pretty intent on getting you sloppy drunk. When I found you two, he was practically dragging you back to the cabin. I took the liberty of telling him to fuck off, but I couldn’t find your key, so you got to crash in my bed for the night.”
“It wasn’t really a date,” I said. I groaned when I tried to sit up and pushed my palms into my eyes.
“Do you remember anything you told me last night?” he asked. He was openly smiling. My gut told me that was a very bad sign.
“Do I want to?” I asked carefully.
Nick produced the folded-up square of paper from his pocket and raised his eyebrows. “You told me the truth about this.”
My eyes bulged. “I didn’t—I . . .” Despite the fact that I considered myself to be a fully grown adult, I was so embarrassed that I yanked the comforter up and covered my head with it. Maybe hot guys and monsters had the same limitations about not being able to penetrate the defenses of a blanket over the head.
“I can still see you,” Nick said.
“What exactly did I say?”
“Enough to convince me of something.”
“What?” I asked impatiently. I was still hiding under the comforter, but I didn’t want him to see how red my cheeks were. I guessed burying myself under a blanket was arguably more embarrassing than blushing, but I wasn’t going to worry about that.
“I’m tired of pushing you away.”
I peeled the comforter back. Jesus. Now I really wanted to know what I’d said. Before last night, it had felt like Nick was using a cattle prod to urge me as far out of his life as possible. Now he was saying this?