Groggy doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling right now. Blinking my eyes again, I see things a little clearer, but still can’t make out specific details. I try to raise my head, but can’t due to the massive migraine beating me back down. I feel my forehead. There’s a cool, damp rag resting there. It seems like my head is being supported by a pillow, and it feels like I’m lying in a bed, but it doesn’t feel like mine. It’s definitely firmer than my mattress at home.
A sense of wooziness hits me. I feel like I’ve taken several doses of NyQuil all at once or something. I slide the cool rag down from my forehead to rest over my eyes, hoping it will ease some of the strain.
A door opens and closes in the near vicinity. I begin to stir in the bed, but my muscles ache with every movement, so I remain lying still.
“Hello?” I croak. “Is someone there?”
I feel something caress my face, followed by a voice I know very well.
“You’re awake, I see,” Parker says.
“Where am I?”
“My dorm room,” he replies.
“Why am I in your dorm room?”
Deep down, I’m kind of happy I’m here. When we were together, Parker was always so attentive, and even though I didn’t necessarily need him to, he would take care of me. I guess that was one of the many reasons I liked him so much. He was always so caring…at least up until the day he left.
He lets out a small chuckle. “You passed out last night and I couldn’t find Janice. So, I decided to take you back here to rest. I figured your dad would kill both of us if I brought you home.”
“Smart move,” I say and then try to laugh, but only succeed in aggravating my headache even more. “Wait…you couldn’t find Janice?”
“Nope. I did find Phoebe, though, and she said something about her leaving with a guy named Gunnar. I didn’t really get the details,” he replies.
“She left…with Gunnar?” I murmur.
“Huh?”
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud.”
“Exactly how much did you have to drink last night?” he asks while moving the cloth to rest back on my forehead.
“I only remember having like, two drinks…the shot at the entrance, and the one beer I got myself.”
“Ha, lightweight,” he teases.
“I don’t feel hung over, though. I kind of feel drugged—like someone might have slipped something in my drink.”
Did Parker put something in my drink? No, he couldn’t have. He was in my sights the whole time last night.
“Was your drink ever unattended?” he asks. I hear a hint of concern in his voice.
“I can’t really remember.”
“Do you by any chance remember any of our conversation last night?”
“Bits and pieces.”
He lets out what sounds like a disappointed sigh. “Huh. Well, can you open your eyes at least?”
“I can try,” I reply, slowly blinking them open. Everything’s still blurry, but as I attempt to focus on just Parker’s face, he comes into view. A smile lights up his baby blues as our eyes meet.
“Good morning. Well, actually it’s after noon.”
“Ah, crap. What time is it?” I ask, feeling my stomach sink at the thought of my dad sending out a search party with him leading the way, decked out in full riot gear.
“It’s about one, why?”
“Ugh, my dad’s why. Where’s my phone?” I ask, feeling around me to see if it’s anywhere near.
“Oh, it’s on my desk. I’ll get it,” he says. He rises from the bed. The first thing I notice is that he’s not wearing a shirt. The second thing: He’s wearing green-and-blue flannel pajama bottoms, and they’re dangerously low. As he turns around, my eyes go directly to the definition just around his hips. Oh my God, his V is ridiculous. Seriously, when did Parker get this hot? I mean, he was hot before, but now, holy shit. And from the looks of it, he may not be wearing any boxers under those pajama pants.
I feel embarrassed for staring and avert my eyes. “You’re killing me with your V,” I blurt out.
“My what?” he asks.
“Your V. You know, the highly-defined hip and pelvic area. Your V,” I reply, taking my phone from his hands.
“Oh, that. Yeah, I’ve been working out a little lately.”
“A little?” I mutter under my breath. He just laughs.
I look down at the shirt I have on and it’s definitely not mine. It suddenly dawns on me I’m wearing one of his.
Tugging on it, I say, “Uh, why am I wearing