Worlds Apart

Chapter Twenty Four

It really couldn’t.

Could it?

Running out of options of where to go, I scuttled upwards, carefully trying not to touch either of them again. They barely had a reaction, deep within whatever dreams that played behind their pretty little heads. Cam just buried his head more securely in the pillow, the hair on the back of his head standing up like a porcupine. On the other hand, Logan just gave a grunt so reminiscent of the one his brother had just made it almost had me jumping out of my very skin.

I didn’t even remember getting in bed last night, let alone the events that had led up to it. What had I done? I couldn’t have done that, could I? It didn’t matter how drunk or high I was, I was almost certain the brothers wouldn’t have been up for that sort of activity. However the bed arrangement didn’t give me much faith in them.

A bit scared of what I might find, I looked down at myself, noting that I at least was still wearing my bra. It was a plain black one. That didn’t say much, though. It was with a sucked in breath that I gingerly lifted up the bed covers, peering down at what exactly I was wearing on the bottom half of my body.

I collapsed back into the headboard in my relief when I saw that, despite the top half state of undress, I still had on my pair of jeans. They may have been wrinkled and have a new hole in the knee, but they were zipped up and commendable. I was the absolute picture of grace – at least in my mind.

Sighing, I stared up at the plain white ceiling, pulling in deep comforting breaths. Whatever I’d done last night it could only come as a relief now. Nothing could be that bad.

Anyways if something like that ever did happen, I would like to be able to remember it.

With the panic that had almost sent me into a frenzy whisked away, it allowed me to take in the general atmosphere of the hotel room not that I knew who it belonged to. Had I had the peace of mind to do that in the first place, I probably could have avoided any and all panic concerning why I was in bed with both brothers.

The hotel room was in complete disrepair.

Someone was going to be charged a fair penny for trashing the place, and I wasn’t even sure who’s hotel room it actually was. Not that it mattered, the bill would just be sent directly to the record company.

There was no television where it had originally been mounted in the cupboard, though there were some rather crude doodles left in its place. Bottles were spread throughout the room, some broken and others leaking onto the once pristine carpet. Cigarette butts decorated the place since it had apparently become a communal ash tray. There was writing on the walls – all mad ravings from people that had been taking mushrooms. The end table was practically broken into firewood at the foot of the couch that had been stripped of all pillows and cushions.

And then there was the small matter of the bodies that lined the place, at least it was limited to the bands. In my immediate eyesight was none other than Pat, curled up like a cat in the armchair beside the bed. Rob had ripped down half of the drapes from the wall, curled up in them as he sat upright, propped into the corner of the room. Danni had the best idea of the lot, lying on the cushions that had been taken from the couch, a blanket from the bed lying over top of her. Why she hadn’t just slept on the couch was a bit of a mystery, but not a serious one. Al was passed on the ground beside her, though he was graced with a pillow. And, finally, there was Graham who was still wearing a pair of sunglasses where he was coiled in the cupboard.

How the three of us had managed the bed was a wonder. I would have fought for the death to have a mattress, which might explain why I was the one who woke up on it.