Page 51 of How to Write a Rom-Com

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Liam drives us the short ride back, leaving me to concentrate on steadying my breath.In. Out. In. Out.I keep my eyes firmly shut, especially as Liam navigates the bends of Puke Parkway. His hand rests on my leg, moving in a gentle, soothing rhythm. I channel all my attention to the warmth of his touch, willing it to drown out the relentless churn of my stomach.

Liam helps me into the house, and I go straight to the bedroom. I collapse on the bed and kick my shoes off. I groan at the feeling of the soft mattress beneath me. It must be getting close to eight o’clock, because the sun is just starting to set. I really wish it would get on with it already so I can wallow in the darkness by myself.

The world is still spinning a little bit, but as long as I’m curled up in a ball and don’t move my head, everything seems to steady. I just want to sleep. I snuggle my face into the pillow and notice that Liam has left the room. I wonder if he’s gone forever. I wonder if he went to get me some food.He makes good food.

“You make good food,” I mumble into the pillow. My stomach gurgles in response.

“Well, thank you,” I hear Liam say. I pry one eye open just in time to see him enter the room with a glass. “Water is the best I could do, since you didn’t have any ginger ale or anything.”

I slowly sit up and take the glass from him. I lay my head back down and watch him as he sits on the edge of the bed. He folds my legs over his lap and runs his hands over my calves.

I turn my head and blink a few times to try to see him more clearly through my dazed vision. It doesn’t work too well.

“You always say just the right thing,” I tell him in a rough voice. Liam furrows his brows at me. “You even furrow your brows like a romance love interest. You’re perfect for it,” I mumble, trying to poke the spot between his eyebrows with my finger, but I miss it and hit his forehead instead. He raises his brows even more and crosses his eyes in an attempt to see my finger. “I could see myself falling for you, if this was real,” I add, floating my eyes closed.

My head feels heavy, too heavy to keep it raised. I want to keep my eyes open so that I can see Liam. I love seeing him. He’s nice to look at. “You’re nice to look at,” I whisper, willing my eyes to open, but they don’t budge. It feels like they’re glued closed, and no amount of strength will separate them. I try to focus on the feeling of Liam’s hands on my legs, the kneading of his fingers into my muscles, the rubbing of his skin against mine. I think I hear him say something, but I’m too far gone.

The last thing I remember is a feeling of warmth against my cheek and the lingering moisture that stays on my skin before I fade entirely into sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

Operation Small Town, Day 26

Fuck, my head hurts.

I woke up around four, still in my jean shorts and tank top, groggy and disoriented. After fumbling my way to the bathroom in complete darkness, I stripped down, pulled on the firstshirt I could find, and collapsed back into bed.

The sun wakes me up next, glaring through the window. I give it the finger. I roll over and search the nightstand for my phone. I eventually find it tangled in the sheets with me. It’s past nine. I groan and curse the sun. My body is in no condition to be awake right now. I roll over and see a note on the nightstand.

Breakfast will be on the front porch when you wake up. Call me later.

—Your Perfect Love Interest

What.

The.

Hell?

I spring upright, immediately regretting it. I whine as blood rushes from my head and pressure compounds at my temples. I roll back, willing the pain to dissipate. When I can finally see straight, I grab the note off the nightstand and read it again.

I cover my mouth with my hand.

I didn’t.

I didn’t.

Please, God, tell me I didn’t.

Maybe I did.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

I didn’t tell himeverything, did I? I remember playing on the bouncy castle with Liam. I remember puking—a lot. I remember the drive home, and talking to Liam, but I can’t remember exactly what I said. But if I had said something incriminating, he wouldn’t have made me breakfast. He would be mad. Those are not the actions of someone who is mad. I take a deep breath. I collapse back on to the pillows and open my phone.

Lucy: Any chance you woke up with amnesia this morning and completely forgot who I was and anything that happened yesterday?

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