Graceful Deception

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

I woke up with what felt like a chainsaw in my head, trying to hack its way out.

With a groan, I sat up from my cramped position on the floor, waiting for the hotel room to stop spinning as I pressed the heels of my hands into my temples, needing for the pain to either let up or kill me and get it over with.

What the fuck did I do last night?

Nothing.

Well, I’d temporarily lost my mind and kissed Wes but other than that, all I’d had to drink was ginger-ale.

So what was with the damn headache?

I lurched to my feet and stumbled, planting a palm on the wall to catch my balance, adding nausea and dizziness to my list of ailments.

“Oh god,” I moaned, lurching towards the bathroom, mentally ordering my stomach to chill out as I flicked on the light switch and winced as the illumination burned my eyeballs.

Gripping the sink, I narrowed my blood shot eyes at my own reflection. “You are not sick. You don’t get sick. This is just a fucked up ginger-ale hangover. You’ll be fine.”

My stomach lurched and I’m pretty sure my reflection gave me a pitying look.

“Fuck.”

It took me a solid hour and a half to shower and get ready to face the day. Even then, I looked barely presentable.

Slapping Wes’ sunglasses onto my face I squared my shoulders towards my door, willing the ibuprofen I’d taken to kick in.

It ignored me.

I can do this, I thought, reaching out to open the door before stepping into the hallway, dragging my suitcase with me. I can face my dad, plant a grin on my lips for the paparazzi, board a plane...

Avoid Wes.

Okay, maybe I couldn’t do this. But what choice did I have?

Besides, the avoiding Wes thing was going pretty well so far. Blake had ditched the party early the night before without telling anyone so I’d snuck out as soon as I’d realized he wasn’t coming back. Sure, I’d spent the night listening to Wes play guitar through the wall but I hadn’t actually had to talk to him, which was good.

Because if I talked to him I’d have to find a way to pretend like that kiss was nothing. That it hadn’t rocked my world and fundamentally changed the way I thought about kisses, that it hadn’t singed something in my brain until all I could think about was the way his lips had felt on mine.

Yeah, I didn’t quite feel up to that level of deception at the moment.

So I breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator doors closed and I was alone in the contraption, recognizing my relief as being stupid but a part of me had expected him to be waiting for me outside of my door this morning, ready to talk.

My relief faded fast when the elevator doors slid open and there he was, standing just off to the side, his eyes immediately latching onto me and holding.

I looked back at him, helpless to do anything else. Dipping my gaze down, I took in the snug white t-shirt he was wearing under his leather jacket and the jeans that fit him just right, all the way down to his running shoes.

Why? Why did he have to look so amazing? Why did his shoulders have to be so broad? Why did his chest have to look so strong and kind of...cozy? Like I could rest my head there and maybe some of the horrendous pain in my skull would go away.