Something Great
Page 34
The past night’s occurrences vividly rushed to the forefront of my mind, and both my eyes flew wide open. I went to the party and got wasted. Oh no! This was terrible…so unprofessional. I had never drank that much before. How much? I had two…I thought. Then Jake and I danced…then…Max. How did I get here?
While I was thinking, I started to gulp the water. It felt cool and refreshing slipping down my throat, so I gulped more down. Wanting to sit down for a bit, I turned, and there he was, sitting on the sofa, sprawled out, comfortably watching me. He looked too gorgeous in the morning light, with just a plain white T-shirt and cotton shorts on. Half of the water I had just gulped spit out of my mouth like a mini fountain, and the other half went down the wrong pipe.
As I coughed relentlessly, Max came to me. “Are you okay?” He massaged my back. “Here…take another sip. It should help. You did mention something about spitting last night, but I didn’t really think you meant it,” he chuckled. “And you must have had some wild dream, or you were in awful pain to moan like that.”
Oh God! My face burned with heat, and I was too embarrassed to look at him; if I did, he would know I dreamt about us having sex in the restroom. I only hoped I hadn’t said his name, or said the things I’d said in my dream out loud.
Taking the bottle out of his hand, I took a couple of sips, placed it down on the nightstand, and looked up at him. He was right. The horrendous coughing stopped, but left me with some lingering ones. “I don’t remember. What happened? I mean…how did I get here? I mean….” How do you ask these questions to your boss’s son? Not that he would squeal on me, but….
Before he could answer, I sat on the edge of the bed. I suddenly realized I was wearing a plain white T-shirt that looked just like his. And to top it off, I had nothing on underneath except for my G-string panties; and even worse, I wasn’t wearing a bra. Not having a chance to look in the mirror, I was horrified. I could imagine my makeup all smeared, and my hair looking like a bird’s nest. Pulling the blanket, I covered my br**sts and tucked the blanket under my arms.
Instead of sitting next to me, Max stood in place. “Everything is alright, Jenna,” Max started to say. “Don’t worry about this…okay?” His tone was so tender that I believed him, but I needed answers.
“How did I get here?”
“I brought you here. No one knows about this. You were red…really red; or, as you said it…you were ‘ved’.” He gave a devilish grin.
“I did not,” I stammered. Did I?
“Oh yes, you did. You also said a bunch of other stuff.” Max sat on the bed, creating massive flutters in my stomach by his proximity.
I gulped and closed my eyes, then opened them to ask him a question I was dreading to ask. “Did we…umm…did you and me…did you spend the night?”
He looked at me with a sideways glance. “Don’t bite your finger, Jenna.” He pulled it out of my mouth. I was totally unaware I was doing that. Looking baffled, he answered my question. “Depends on what you mean by ‘spend the night.’”
Unsure of why anger was brewing inside me, besides the fact that he wasn’t giving me a clear-cut answer, I tried to calm myself down, but it wasn’t working. “Who changed me? And why am I wearing your T-shirt?” My tone came out a little bit angrier and louder than I wanted it to.
Then there it was…that hurt and anger in his eyes that made me want to take back what I had said and how I had said it. Under those thick eyelashes, his eyes daggered at me for long seconds without a word, but I could tell he was mad from the way he wrung the comforter. Finally, he bolted up like he had sat on fire, and ran his hand through his sexy short hair.
“You…you think I took advantage of this situation? You think I could be that low?” Now he was pacing back and forth. “First of all…I took care of you so you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself. For someone who can’t tolerate alcohol, you sure didn’t care last night. That was very unprofessional of you. You represent the company when you’re at a function, not yourself.”
My headache was throbbing again, and this time it was from guilt and shame. I should have been more careful with my words, and I should not have assumed things like that, but what was I supposed to think? Water pooled in my eyes, but there was no way I was going to shed a tear.
Max continued, but his tone was softer this time. “You were burning up last night. I was worried for you. I’ve never had an experience with anyone who couldn’t tolerate alcohol, so I didn’t know what to do, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you by yourself. I didn’t want to fumble through your drawers, so I gave you my T-shirt. I swear I didn’t look, which is the reason why it is on backwards. You changed yourself. When I tucked you into bed, I managed to make you take a couple of sips of water….you were very stubborn by the way…then you were knocked out. Just in case you needed me….” He pointed. “I slept on the sofa. Now you know what happened.” Then he stormed out of my room.
The whole time he was speaking, my head was down in shame. I felt so awful. He took care of me, and this was how I thanked him. The tears that threatened to fall were making their way down my cheeks, and when Max left, I couldn’t fathom the reasons why, but my heart ached…really ached…for two reasons; I felt bad, and he’d just walked off, like we had broken up. A part of me told me to stay put, but the other half told me to run to him and apologize. The second half won.
While I was thinking, I started to gulp the water. It felt cool and refreshing slipping down my throat, so I gulped more down. Wanting to sit down for a bit, I turned, and there he was, sitting on the sofa, sprawled out, comfortably watching me. He looked too gorgeous in the morning light, with just a plain white T-shirt and cotton shorts on. Half of the water I had just gulped spit out of my mouth like a mini fountain, and the other half went down the wrong pipe.
As I coughed relentlessly, Max came to me. “Are you okay?” He massaged my back. “Here…take another sip. It should help. You did mention something about spitting last night, but I didn’t really think you meant it,” he chuckled. “And you must have had some wild dream, or you were in awful pain to moan like that.”
Oh God! My face burned with heat, and I was too embarrassed to look at him; if I did, he would know I dreamt about us having sex in the restroom. I only hoped I hadn’t said his name, or said the things I’d said in my dream out loud.
Taking the bottle out of his hand, I took a couple of sips, placed it down on the nightstand, and looked up at him. He was right. The horrendous coughing stopped, but left me with some lingering ones. “I don’t remember. What happened? I mean…how did I get here? I mean….” How do you ask these questions to your boss’s son? Not that he would squeal on me, but….
Before he could answer, I sat on the edge of the bed. I suddenly realized I was wearing a plain white T-shirt that looked just like his. And to top it off, I had nothing on underneath except for my G-string panties; and even worse, I wasn’t wearing a bra. Not having a chance to look in the mirror, I was horrified. I could imagine my makeup all smeared, and my hair looking like a bird’s nest. Pulling the blanket, I covered my br**sts and tucked the blanket under my arms.
Instead of sitting next to me, Max stood in place. “Everything is alright, Jenna,” Max started to say. “Don’t worry about this…okay?” His tone was so tender that I believed him, but I needed answers.
“How did I get here?”
“I brought you here. No one knows about this. You were red…really red; or, as you said it…you were ‘ved’.” He gave a devilish grin.
“I did not,” I stammered. Did I?
“Oh yes, you did. You also said a bunch of other stuff.” Max sat on the bed, creating massive flutters in my stomach by his proximity.
I gulped and closed my eyes, then opened them to ask him a question I was dreading to ask. “Did we…umm…did you and me…did you spend the night?”
He looked at me with a sideways glance. “Don’t bite your finger, Jenna.” He pulled it out of my mouth. I was totally unaware I was doing that. Looking baffled, he answered my question. “Depends on what you mean by ‘spend the night.’”
Unsure of why anger was brewing inside me, besides the fact that he wasn’t giving me a clear-cut answer, I tried to calm myself down, but it wasn’t working. “Who changed me? And why am I wearing your T-shirt?” My tone came out a little bit angrier and louder than I wanted it to.
Then there it was…that hurt and anger in his eyes that made me want to take back what I had said and how I had said it. Under those thick eyelashes, his eyes daggered at me for long seconds without a word, but I could tell he was mad from the way he wrung the comforter. Finally, he bolted up like he had sat on fire, and ran his hand through his sexy short hair.
“You…you think I took advantage of this situation? You think I could be that low?” Now he was pacing back and forth. “First of all…I took care of you so you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself. For someone who can’t tolerate alcohol, you sure didn’t care last night. That was very unprofessional of you. You represent the company when you’re at a function, not yourself.”
My headache was throbbing again, and this time it was from guilt and shame. I should have been more careful with my words, and I should not have assumed things like that, but what was I supposed to think? Water pooled in my eyes, but there was no way I was going to shed a tear.
Max continued, but his tone was softer this time. “You were burning up last night. I was worried for you. I’ve never had an experience with anyone who couldn’t tolerate alcohol, so I didn’t know what to do, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you by yourself. I didn’t want to fumble through your drawers, so I gave you my T-shirt. I swear I didn’t look, which is the reason why it is on backwards. You changed yourself. When I tucked you into bed, I managed to make you take a couple of sips of water….you were very stubborn by the way…then you were knocked out. Just in case you needed me….” He pointed. “I slept on the sofa. Now you know what happened.” Then he stormed out of my room.
The whole time he was speaking, my head was down in shame. I felt so awful. He took care of me, and this was how I thanked him. The tears that threatened to fall were making their way down my cheeks, and when Max left, I couldn’t fathom the reasons why, but my heart ached…really ached…for two reasons; I felt bad, and he’d just walked off, like we had broken up. A part of me told me to stay put, but the other half told me to run to him and apologize. The second half won.
