Page 3 of Finding Kyler
She momentarily lifts her head off the sofa to send him a filthy glare. “Izz not! I’ve watchedGossip Girl, and those boys are fit and stinking rich.”
“Wow! You’ve seen it on a tacky TV show, so it must be true.” Derision drips off his tongue. “That’s even stupider.” He rolls his eyes to the ceiling.
“Stupider isn’t actually a word,” Jill pipes up, sounding remarkably sober for someone who looks like she’s on the verge of passing out.
“Is too. Google it.” Luke flips her the bird before knocking back another shot. “You’d know that if you hadn’t nuked all your brain cells with tequila.”
Rachel opens her mouth to retaliate, but I zone out of the conversation. Jumping up, I snatch my mobile phone off the side table and plug it into the docking station. I turn the volume up to the max, drowning out the voices of my friends. Booming music blasts throughout the room, and Jill emits a loud holler. My body sways to the beat of the music as she hops up to join me.
The rest of the night becomes one giant messy blur. I vaguely remember others arriving, packing our small sitting room like sardines. Visions of Rachel and Jill escorting me to the bathroom are hazy.
Even hazier are the events leading up to this moment.
My head throbs painfully as I slowly start to regain consciousness. It’s as if someone has taken a jackhammer to my skull and they’re pounding to their own rhythm. A moan slips out through my lips. My tongue is plastered to the roof of my mouth, and the rancid taste of tequila and salt coats my mouth in a disgusting layer of slime. I moisten my dry lips as I attempt to open my eyes.
The sheets are stained a bright red color, and I blink profusely in total confusion.
Tangled strands of red hair cover my face as I fight a bout of nausea.What the…?
Pushing up on my elbows is a tremendous feat in itself. On shaky limbs, I brush the knotty red hair back out of my eyes and stare at the abundance of red dye coating the white sheets of my bed.
I grunt. Bloody hell.What did I do?Rubbing a lock of my hair between my hands, I groan as it starts to come back to me. At some point during the night, I’d had the bright idea that a makeover was in order, and we’d raided the bathroom press.
The red hair dye was Mum’s. She had taken to coloring her hair these last few months because a few strips of gray had made an unwelcome appearance. Her hair was dark—like mine—with rich, lush coppery strands running through it. I can still remember how her hair used to glisten magnificently in the sunlight.
A sharp pain pierces me straight through the heart as I flop back down on the bed.
That’s when I become aware of issue number two.
A hand tightens on my breast, and nimble fingers start to brush over the tip of my nipple. I’m still fully clothed, thank the stars, but that’s not stopping my bedmate. Panic rears up and slaps me in the face. This can’t be good. I rack my brains but I can’t recall any of the specifics.
I have no idea who is lying beside me.
Or what we may or may not have done.
I stifle a groan as I twist around to the other side.
Luke’s mischievous grin greets me, and I silently curse. His green eyes sparkle with excitement, and I think I might puke.
Please tell me we didn’t.Please tell me I had more sense than that. Or that I was too far gone to take anything to the next level. I narrow my eyes as I glower at him. His fingers swipe more feverishly over my nipple, and even though I’m protected by my shirt, his frantic tweaking actually hurts.
I send him my best death glare.
The one I usually reserve for vermin and serial killers. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Funny,” a heavily accented male voice says. “I was about to ask the same question.”
Chapter Two
I scream, shoving Luke’s hand away as I shunt up against the headboard, pulling the covers up under my chin. A tall, handsome man with short dark hair and piercing blue eyes is standing at the edge of the bed, staring at me as if he’s just seen a ghost.
Crap.
This cannot be happening.
My eyes dart to the small digital clock resting on top of the bedside locker, and I curse when I spot the time. I hadn’t even thought to set the alarm, and now I’ve slept the morning, and half the afternoon, away.
Luke sits up, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “Who the bleedin’ hell are you?”
