Kiss To Forget (Blairwood University #2) - Anna B. Doe Page 0,18

first thing that comes to hand—which turns out to be a football—and throw it at his head, but the asshole catches it. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

“What for? I’ve seen your naked ass plenty of times.”

He leans against the doorway and starts playing with the football, throwing it in the air and catching it. The sound of skin slapping against skin is like somebody’s stabbing me in the brain.

“I might have had somebody over.”

“Right,” he chuckles. “That would imply that you were able to walk yourself home last night, which if I remember correctly, you weren’t.”

He isn’t lying, that’s for sure. My head is throbbing painfully, and my mouth is so dry. I’m surprised I can even open it, much less talk.

“What do you want, Mom?”

Turning on my stomach, I burrow my head in the pillow and almost instantly regret it when my stomach starts to roll uncomfortably.

Christ, how much did I drink?

While I’ve never been a choir boy, I’ve also never indulged in excessive, can’t-remember-what-I-did, I-wanna-barf-my-stomach-out-of-my-body kind of drinking either. Oh, I tried it back in high school, but you learn pretty fast that if you really want to stay on the team and in tip-top shape, so that you can start, you can’t get drunk off your ass every weekend.

“What I want to know is what the hell’s going on with you? You’ve been off ever since we came back from break.”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Bullshit,” he throws back instantly. His voice is so loud; I have to squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to breathe through the stab of pain that assaults my head, intensifying the throbbing behind my temples.

“Can you keep it quiet?” I protest, trying to massage the pain away.

“You don’t deserve better anyway.”

“What?” I ask, confused. There is something in his tone that has me rolling to my back so I can squint at him. “Why?”

What the hell happened last night? The whole evening is kind of blurry in my mind. I know we went to Moore’s for drinks and then…

Hayden looks at me for a moment. “You seriously don’t remember?” He shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “Dude, if I were you, I’d stay clear of Callie, ‘cause she’s pissed.”

Callie?

“What for?”

Callie’s never angry at me. Hell, I like to rub it in his face that she was my friend before the two of them started fooling around in the first place. That pisses him off like nothing else.

Hayden chuckles, but the sound lacks humor. “Because you chased Yasmin away, you dumbass. Callie barely got her out as it is. Seriously, man, you need to get your shit together.”

With another knock against the door he turns and goes away while I stay lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling.

Yasmin.

What happened with…

The evening comes back to me in snippets, a slide of snapshots rolling through my brain.

Me drinking with the guys. Yasmin appearing. The bickering. Seeing her flirt with that bartender. Getting pissed and cornering her. Taunting her with her secret. Her running away. Me going after her.

He’s my fucking father.

Her broken, empty eyes, and the tear sliding down her cheek.

My stomach rolls, and this time I know there’s no stopping it. I barely get to my feet and across the hall to the bathroom before I throw the contents of my stomach up.

If only the shame was as easy to get rid of.

As I enter the classroom, my eyes scan the space. For once I’m actually early, so there aren’t as many students in here just yet, but Yasmin’s already sitting in her usual seat, her head hanging over her notebook as she scribbles something furiously.

Taking one deep breath, I enter and climb to her row. The nausea from earlier returns in full force, making me sweat.

I’m gripping the cups of coffee I picked up before coming here so hard, I’m surprised I don’t break the paper and splash the hot liquid all over my hands. I’m a fucking mess, and I know it, but there is no way I could sit a few rows down from her without apologizing for last night.

He’s my fucking father.

Yasmin’s shoulders tense as my shadow falls over her, which is far from a promising start, but I wasn’t expecting anything else.

Putting the cup on the desk, I slide it over the surface until it reaches the edge of her notebook. Slowly she lifts her gaze, those dark eyes meeting my face. The scowl I’m so familiar with is between her brows, like she knew