The Sun in My Eyes

42 Morning Light, It Stings a Little

Bobby wanted to intervene, but his tongue was as thick as his brain. Luckily, he didn't have to. Emily gave a resigned smile. "That still makes us both pieces of meat." She grabbed something from her cubby and slowly headed upstairs without another word.

Amber's eye roll hurt Bobby to look at. "There goes a cow who doesn't know how to lose. And you think she'd be so good at it by now."

Blake scowled. "That was uncalled for." They had a bit of an argument that Bobby tuned out, but it ended with everyone departing the room from different exits.

He rubbed at his aching face. Something in Emily's expression had stirred unease in him and he pushed harder at the edges of his memory. He'd been drinking. He might have yelled at Noah. Or had Lucas yelled at Noah? He'd gone to the daybeds. Bottle of whisky. Bottle of rum.

Then what?

"Oh, you're finally awake!" Yuna raced across the room and tossed herself beside him on the bed. His slow throbbing brain didn't know what to make of it. "It's the last day!" she chirped, the sound echoing in the empty room and rattling his brain. "Are you excited?"

"Um. Aye, sure." His voice was creaky and unused, and his mouth tasted like pure arse. "What—" He couldn't ask what time it was. There were no clocks in the villa. "How long was I asleep?"

"They let all of us sleep in, but even then, no one could wake you when the alarms went off. You've slept half the day away. Missed a lovely brunch and cheeky oil massages! The producers sent someone to make sure you weren't dead. Lucas and Gary were so worried. They took turns coming to check on you." She gave him a chiding smile.

In any other circumstance he'd have simply been embarrassed to be babied, but something more grim than embarrassment gnawed at him with sharp teeth and shook him like an old bone. Some memory he couldn't quite grasp hold of.

"I told them it was just a rough day for you yesterday, with the video and all," Yuna continued. She rubbed a hand against his stubbly cheek. "You were off your face last night. But we should talk more after you've had a shower. You smell like the pub after a footy."

The video. The blur of his memory sharpened enough to make out shapes. Lili kissed someone else. Or rather, someone kissed her. Mustache Guy. Nighttime. Yuna pulled him aside to say that Lili was using him. Then she had...kissed him. He sat up straighter and the memory came into focus. Yuna had definitely kissed him. Was that it? Was that the unsettling thing he couldn't recall?

No. It wasn't that. The frantic ominous pawing of something else abraded him.

Purple drinks. Blue drinks. Wine. Yelling. Screaming obscenities at Noah like he was unhinged. Like his mum. He squeezed his eyes closed. Horror and humiliation churned in his already roiling middle.

Beds. Whisky. Rum. Emily crying. His own tears pooling in his ears. Hurting everywhere. Reaching for Emily. Kissing—

Nausea rolled through him. No. No. That didn't happen. He wouldn't do that. He'd never done that. But the digging clawing memory finally found purchase and wouldn't relent as it ripped into his insides. Heated kissing. Clothed bodies grinding. Emily slipping beneath the bedding and unzipping his breeks...

A bitter taste flooded his mouth and the searing pain in his gut nearly doubled him over. He shot off the bed and raced up the stairs, every jarring step bringing him closer to sick. Emily sat at the vanity, staring blankly at herself in the mirror and didn't look his way as he rushed past and slammed the bathroom door behind him. He'd barely dropped to his knees over the loo when his stomach gave a decisive heave and his body surrendered to it.

He couldn't say how long it went on before his retching finally stopped. Ten minutes. Ten hours. Knocks came to the door and he ignored them. No one seemed brave enough to step inside to check on him and he was glad of it. Whisky and rum and regret were sweating out of every pore and he couldn't face anyone.