Chapter Sixteen

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Lily

I wake up to the sound of heavy snoring and the song Jingle Bells, which I set as my phone alarm for the holidays. But I don't even stir due to my heavy eyes blinking for a good five minutes. I let my conscious and body slowly wake up, not eager to face my inevitable hangover.

The balcony doors have no curtain to block the sun from barging into the room. The floors glow like a floor of hundreds of gold coins, except for a black T-shirt and ripped jeans. Huh... I wasn't wearing that last night. Why are there so many clothes on the ground? The room I picked to crash in last night must have been a pigsty and it was too dark for me to notice.

I wake up a little more, and I regret everything done last night when my head starts to pound. I try to lift my arm to rub my aching temple, but it's weighed down by something. Or is it someone?

This can't be happening. I vaguely remember playing a weird party game and kissing a girl, and kissing Declan, and maybe even kissing Blue. I've kissed more people last night than I have ever kissed in my entire life. I lift the sheet using my other hand and peek under the navy duvet, only to find my naked body. Oh no.

Oh God. Please don't let it be him.

Hysterical, I snap my eyes wide open to find a muscular back and a familiar mop of curly hair. I'd recognize this hair in a crowded Macy's store in the middle of Black Friday. Blue has his lanky arms wrapped around me and his head on my stomach.

This is not happening. How the hell did this happen?

I attempt to pull Blue's arms off, but he just holds me tighter and mumbles incoherently against my skin. I try to push him off altogether, but he holds me securely, not budging one bit. Trying to take him off me is like trying to tip over the Empire Building. More annoyed, I push at his shoulders, but he doesn't hold me tighter or steel his grip—he slowly opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at me. I freeze still as he blinks for a few, dazed seconds before finally pulling his arms away and untwining his legs from mine. I expect him to make a sarcastic comment or something, but he just sits up against the headboard and rubs his face. I quickly scramble off the bed, taking the thin bed sheet with me and wrapping it around my body. When he drops his hands to his lap, he stares at me without saying a word. Memories of Blue between my legs and me clawing at his naked back play on a loop through my head.

What the hell do I say now? I try to recall all of those romantic comedies I watched growing up. Whenever the girl made a mistake by sleeping with her ex, she always had at least two friends to patch up the hole with a new guy and a new job in a new city. But I don't have any of that. All I have is a bed sheet, disgusting morning breath, and Blue Montgomery watching me like he's replaying last night's drunken event in his head. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out except a strained squeak. Embarrassed, I close my mouth and scratch my crazy bedhead, thinking of appropriate words. Does this mean we're on the road of rekindling? Do I want that to happen? What if this is just what he wanted and now that he's got it, he's done with me forever? Would I be thrilled with that, or really upset about it? I don't know.

"I think you should start," he says.

"Um... I wish I could. I really do, but I have no words," I confess. I can't wrap my head around this. Blue, naked, in that bed, me: also, naked, after I swore I would never even kiss him again, let alone have sex with him. Is this even real, or a messed-up nightmare? I pinch my arm and bite my lip. I definitely felt that.

"What are your feelings about last night?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

"I don't know."

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