The Ninth Inning (The Boys of Baseball #1) - J. Sterling Page 0,77

unread texts. A single message from Lauren appeared, letting me know that she was on her way back home this morning, but my heart stopped beating completely when I saw Logan’s name.

Had a great time last night. You’re a real tiger in the sack. No wonder Cole couldn’t let you go. See you soon.

What. In. The. Actual. Fuck?

No, no, no, no, no.

I said the words like a prayer … like a chant … like something that would make this all some sort of sick and twisted joke. I wouldn’t do that. Would I? God, why can’t I remember anything?

I dropped my phone like it was on fire and sprinted for the bathroom. I threw up my shame, my embarrassment, and the sake and beer I’d drunk the night before. But still, nothing was clear. My mind was as empty as my stomach. I couldn’t remember anything after I had seen Logan.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and shuddered. My hair was unnaturally ratted, and my mascara had smeared around my eyes. There was no way that I would have slept with Logan. But I couldn’t be sure. At least, not a hundred percent because I had no memory of last night past a certain point. I’d never blacked out before, and I was scared. I didn’t like the way it felt to have no recollection of my own actions.

Where is my car? I suddenly wondered.

I continued staring at myself, like all the answers would magically appear and my head would fill itself with the truth, but nothing came. It was blank, and the harder I tried to grab on to answers, the more they eluded me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I opened them again, and they went straight to my top, which was still on inside out.

That couldn’t be a good sign. Why the hell is my shirt on inside out unless I took it off at some point? I pulled it off and then put it back on the right way as my phone pinged again. I slowly walked toward it, dreading what I’d find waiting for me there. It was Cole, asking if I was okay.

I couldn’t call him or FaceTime him right now. Looking into his eyes or hearing his voice would rip me apart while I struggled to put together the pieces of last night. I had to try to figure out what the hell had really happened before I talked to him. I sent him a text back, telling him that I was so sorry for worrying him but I was home safe and jumping in the shower. He called me immediately, but I ignored it, knowing full well that I was only delaying the inevitable. Eventually, I’d have to tell Cole. I’d have to admit to him that I had no memory of the end of the night … about Logan being there … and what we’d apparently done.

Shaking, I sat back down on my bed and cried, wishing it were all a nightmare I could wake up from. I pinched my arm, but the pain alerted me that I was already awake. I hated the fact that I wasn’t dreaming. I was so confused. And so ashamed. I loved Cole. How could I do that to him, to us? I hated myself.

I cried until my pillowcase was soaking wet against my cheek. And when I heard the front door slam, I sat up and tried to wipe at my face, but it was too late. Lauren bounced into my room, her expression falling as she ran to my side and sat next to me before wrapping an arm around me.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” she asked, and I shook in her arms, my body convulsing with remorse. “I wasn’t sure you were even here. Your car isn’t outside.”

“It’s not?” I asked even though I had known deep down that it wasn’t. It was further proof that I’d gone home with Logan last night.

“I didn’t see it anywhere. What’s going on?”

“I fucked up, Lauren,” I said through my cries.

“What do you mean? What happened?”

“I think,” I stuttered, “I think I slept with Logan last night.”

Lauren leaned her body away from mine and looked at me. “You what? No way. No.”

I rested my hand on my stomach, which, even though it was empty, it still threatened to empty itself again. “I don’t remember.”

“What do you mean, you don’t remember?”

“I drank too much.”

“That’s not like you,” Lauren said, and I knew how out of character