Page 49 of What are the Risks
“Because I want pizza –a lotof pizza – and a big glass of icy Coke.” I shoved my phone into my purse. Noah was tomorrow’s problem. “If you’re passing on the orgy, want to get food with me?”
*
I hated myself before I even opened my eyes. My tongue felt like sandpaper, my throat was drier than the Sahara Desert, and my brain pounded harder than Daisy’s bedhead did against our shared bedroom wall.
Last night had gotten out of hand. The sheer number of blackout periods was concerning. Had I made an idiot of myself? Had I spilled someone’s secret? Had I put my foot in it? Had I been annoying? Who the fuck knew. Hangxiety was the worst.
I sat up slowly, surveying the room. Ryker was in Evan’s bed, sprawled out on his stomach, his back muscles relaxed as his arms rested above his head. Evan was nowhere in sight. He must still be tied up – potentially literally – with Miranda and Elizabeth.
I quietly shuffled to the bathroom, softly closing the door behind me. Reaching for the shower, I purposely avoided my own reflection. I felt like I’d been hit by a bus, and then dragged behind it for several blocks. I’m sure that’s how I looked too.
After managing to wash my hair and face, the effort of standing became too much. I collapsed onto the tiled shower floor and threw up – three times. If this wasn’t rock bottom, I didn’t know what was.
Tears welled in my eyes as I emptied the contents of last night’s dinner and late night snack. Pizza and vodka were now on my blacklist of things to not touch for the foreseeable future.
After soaking under the boiling spray until my skin was raw, I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped out to brush my teeth. Vomiting had helped me to feel slightly better, but I was still operating below twenty-five percent.
As I braved my phone for the first time this morning, a stream of memories came rushing back – most of them unwarranted, particularly the message from Scarlett and the countless missed calls from Noah.
He’d already phoned three times this morning and sent two messages. One was from an hour ago, and the other had been sent while I was in the shower.
Noah: Scarlett is lying. It was only one time.
Noah: She’s not lying. I’m so sorry Ruby. I fucked up. Let me see you today. I’ll tell you about every time and every girl. No more secrets.
Every time.
Every girl.
My stomach was in knots. If I hadn’t just emptied it, I’d probably be puking in the sink right now.
I figured since I was already at rock bottom, I may as well rip the Band-Aid off and hear Noah out. I was certain the conversation would end with me telling him to go and fuck himself, but at least then I could focus on moving on.
As difficult as that was to accept, it was the only option. Because no matter what excuse he gave me, I could never forgive him for this.
I texted him the name of the hotel along with instructions to pick me up in twenty minutes. He wrote back immediately.
Noah: I’m on my way.
After taming my hair and slipping into a grey hoodie of Ryker’s that he’d left on the bathroom floor, I headed back into the bedroom. He was awake now, sitting up in bed watching a football replay on the hotel TV.
“Good morning, Rubz.”
“It’s morning, but it definitely isn’t good.”
He muted the TV. “How’s the head?”
“Sore. So is the stomach.”
He grimaced. “So I heard.”
Damn. I’d been hoping the shower would muffle the sound of me hurling up my guts.
“I didn’t think you’d have anything left to get out after last night,” Ryker said.
“I didn’t chuck last night.”
Ryker snorted. “Tell that to my shoes and jeans.”
