Page 71 of Unrest
Apounding pain inside my forehead woke me. I kept my eyes closed, assessing the damage. Definite headache and queasy stomach. What had happened last night? Too much whiskey and rum, that was for sure. Just the thought of it made me roll over to my back, just in case I had to dash to the bathroom again. I looked over and saw Remy’s small form curled on the other side of the bed, her back to me. She never slept that far away.
We lay there in silence as last night’s events slowly unfolded in my memory. Dancing with Josh. Remy and Linette arguing. Being carried back to my room, and . . . oh, my God. I covered my face with my hands. I’d called him a clit tease. Of all the idiotic things to say. I don’t think I’d ever used that word before in my life.
But it got worse. I’d said more things to Rylen. I rummaged through the unclear memories and dragged pieces to the forefront to examine them. And then it hit me in the chest with the force of a bullet.
I’d told him I loved him as more than a sister. I’d told him I wanted him, even after he was married. I let out a whimper and Remy rolled over, sitting up to peer down at me. Her eyes traveled over me, and seeing that I was okay, she turned and rolled away from me again.
“Rem?” I whispered.
Something had happened. I tried to pinpoint my time with Remy last night, and then an aching chasm split deep inside of me. I’d told everyone I wasn’t a virgin. Something I’d never disclosed to before. I pressed a hand over my mouth, feeling sick again.
Remy deserved so much better than a best friend who kept all of her feelings and experiences bottled up inside.
“Remy,” I whispered, forcing each sound from my throat. “I’m sorry.”
For a long time, she said nothing, and didn’t move. I wondered if she’d heard me. And then she spoke.
“Why don’t you trust me? I wouldn’t have told a soul.”
“I know that,” I said, and I did. “I do trust you. I’m just . . . I’m not like you.”
She sat up and turned in a rush, her hair wild around her face. “Not a slut like me?”
“What?” I felt the blood drain from my head. “No! You know I don’t think that! I just meant . . . I’m not good atsayingthings.” I struggled, wanting so badly for this conversation to be over, for Remy to just know my heart and not need the spoken words. But that wasn’t going to happen. She crossed her arms, waiting. I had to earn her forgiveness. So I pressed on.
“You’re sogood. You always have the right words. You always care. You put yourself out there. And I’m like this dried up little clam that keeps it all hidden. It’s really hard for me, really uncomfortable for me, to verbalize.”
God, even now I was sweating and short of breath.
She pushed her waves behind her ears, frowning. “Amber, you weren’t . . . raped, were you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Nothing like that. It was consensual, I just regret it. It’s embarrassing.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed with me. I know you’re a private person.” She chewed her lip, and it was clear that she didn’t want to press but couldn’t help herself. “How long ago was it?”
I rubbed my face, not looking forward to rehashing that awful night of my life.
“Remember last summer when I went on that date with Ken?”
Her eyes rounded. “Oh, my gosh, that hot Japanese fire fighter? Yes! It was him?” I nodded, and she couldn’t hold back a smile. “So what happened? I mean, never mind. I know you don’t want to talk about it.” But her eyes were alight with interest.
“It wasn’t anything special,” I said, much to her disappointment. “We didn’t even finish because I freaked out and stopped us.” My face heated and I felt dizzy just thinking about it.
Remy pulled ayikesface. “Sorry. I know I kinda pressured you to go out with him.”
“Not your fault. He was great. It was me. I’m the mess.” I fell back on the bed and closed my eyes. Everything from last night was sitting on my chest like a sumo wrestler. “I’m still a mess. Last night . . .”
She practically pounced. “Yes, what happened last night? Rylen came and got me and told me he put you to bed.”
“More like he threw me on the bed.”
She was clearly trying not to smile. She wanted the details I so badly wanted to forget. I covered my face and spoke against the heels of my hands.
“I tried to kiss him, Remy. And when he denied me . . . I called him a clit tease.”
She slapped a hand to her mouth, stunned, then fell to her side and erupted in laughter. I sat up and glowered down at her, although, to be honest, getting it all out was kind of therapeutic.
“Shut up,” she sputtered. “You didnot.”
