“Yeah, she’s in the bathroom,” Bekka said from the doorway. “But this room is trashed.”
“She vomited all over both the beds,” Lauren explained. “And the carpet. And the bathroom floor. I told her she shouldn’t have eaten the family size nachos at lunch. Fucking jalapenos everywhere.”
Bekka clapped a hand over her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Without saying a word, Liam walked through the door and past my friends, followed closely behind by Bekka. He was braver than me, to take in the scene. The smell of vomit made me want to vomit.
“What’s he doing?” I whispered to Lauren from the hallway.
Lauren cocked her head to the side. “He’s stripping the beds. God, that’s disgusting. She even got vomit on the phone.”
I cringed, thinking of the clean-up that would be involved in that room. “She’s okay though?”
“She okay?” Lauren asked from the doorway.
“Yeah, she’s fine,” I could hear Bekka reply. “I’m going to get her washed up.”
“I’ll help,” Liam said.
With my fingers pinched over my nose, I entered the suite and peeked into the room. Both queen beds were indeed stripped of their bedding and towels were placed over the floor leading to the bathroom where Bekka was removing Katy’s shoes.
“I’m fine,” Katy said, rolling her eyes. “Just got sick.”
Lauren approached them. “You weren’t even drunk when you left the club, Katy. What the fuck happened?”
I picked up an empty bottle of vodka on the tv stand and held it up for Bekka and Lauren.
“Ah.” Lauren frowned. “Kind of a dumb decision, Katy.”
“No shit,” Katy replied, her mouth in a permanent scowl. “The drinks at that club were overpriced anyway.” Her words were slurred, but she was lucid enough to throw her shoes angrily once they’d been removed from her feet.
Lauren and I exchanged a look, both of us acknowledging that Katy had chosen the club in the first place.
I eyed a chunk of tortilla chip near the bathroom door and put my hand over my mouth. Since we hadn’t eaten in the room once, I knew that it was a remnant of Katy’s explosive vomiting episode.
“I’m fine,” Katy insisted, batting the wet washcloth Liam was wiping across her face.
“You have vomit in your ear,” Bekka said flatly. “Stay still.”
Lauren turned to me. “This room’s trashed.”
“Uh huh.”
“Which means Bekka and Katy are going to have to sleep in our room.”
Fuck. If Katy woke up and continued vomiting, there’s no way I’d be able to sleep in the same room as her all night. The suite had one uncomfortable couch and two chairs, but no other places where one might be able to sleep.
“I’ll share a bed with her,” Bekka said, overhearing us. “You guys can share the other bed.”
“What if she pukes again?” I said, my stomach already protesting the very idea. Besides, despite plugging my nose, the smell had infiltrated the entire suite.
Katy turned to the toilet, making a retching noise, and that decided it for me. I’d get my own room. There was no way in hell I could last through this night if Katy kept the vomiting up.
“You could stay with Liam,” Lauren said, volunteering him.
Without even pausing a beat, Liam—whose attention was focused on mopping up the vomit that seemed to be everywhere—said, “You can. I have two queen beds.”
“You’re welcome,” Lauren said to me in a whisper.
I gave her a look.
“He has two beds,” she whispered again. “But you only need one.” She gave me a wink and then quietly patted herself on the back, pleased with her idea.
“But it’s our last night,” I said, even though I knew it didn’t matter.
“We’ll have breakfast in the morning,” Bekka said. “In the hotel restaurant. It’s not like you’ll miss anything until then, except Katy vomiting some more probably.”
“I’m not gonna vomit more,” Katy said indignantly before turning and spewing again into the toilet.
Bekka sighed. Lauren turned to me with disgust written clearly across her face. “You lucky bitch,” she whispered without heat. “I have to share a room with her.”
She had a point.
Bekka gave Liam a grateful smile. “Thanks, but go on ahead. I’ve got to get these puke-covered clothes off of her.”
“Ready?” he asked me, standing.
I nodded, leading the way back out the door. He followed me silently all the way to the elevators.
“Thanks,” I told him once the doors closed behind us. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s just vomit.” He shrugged.
“Well, that’s probably my biggest fear. I can’t stand to be around it, I can’t stand vomiting myself.