The Way to Game the Walk of Shame (2 page)

Light freckles were sprinkled where his very tan shoulders and back came together. Thank god he was wearing a pair of wrinkled khaki shorts—although they rode pretty low on his hips. On one side, a pale line peeked out beneath his tan. A spot that was probably never in the sun and no one ever saw. At least no one he wasn’t sleeping with.

“Uh…” My head nearly burst from the instant heat that sprang to my cheeks. I tore my eyes away and focused on a tropical postcard hanging on the edge of his mirror, squashing the unwanted yet not unreasonable disappointment that he was wearing clothes. This was
not
the time to be ogling Evan McKinley.

“So, I guess I should say good morning.” He stretched his arms over his head and grinned down at me, enjoying my discomfort. I saw his lean biceps ripple distractingly out of the corner of my eyes. “Isn’t that what people are supposed to say first thing in the morning?”

Look away, Taylor. Look away.
I shaded my eyes against the tantalizing view and focused on the lines on my palm. “I don’t know. Shouldn’t you know the morning-after protocol better than me?” Damn, I shouldn’t have said that.

To my surprise, he threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, I guess there’s no denying
that
truth.”

I clamped my jaw shut before anything else inappropriate slipped out, and my eyes longingly glanced toward the door. I should have slid out when I had the chance.

Did we have to go through the polite pleasantries? Couldn’t we just forget about each other as though last night (and this morning) hadn’t happened? Like we didn’t know each other?

Oh god. He probably
didn’t
know me. Just because
I
knew who he was didn’t mean
he
knew who I was. Aside from my choking out “Thank you” after he’d saved me at the pool, we’d never spoken to each other before (or since). Not to mention, I had looked like a drowned rat that day, so I kind of hoped he didn’t remember. Besides, he must have saved hundreds of girls in the past year. I’d even seen a girl pretend to drown in front of him just to get some lip action.

Nah, Evan couldn’t possibly remember. I was just an average one-night—wait, we hadn’t slept together, so scratch that. I was a random, strange girl in his room. And it was going to stay that way.

I climbed to my feet, intending to make a quick escape, when a wave of nausea caught me by surprise. My mouth filled with a bitter taste.
Urgh.
I pressed a hand against my lips as my vision blurred.

Evan reached forward as though he was going to catch me. Either me or my vomit. I automatically backed up a few steps until my back was pressed against his desk chair.

“The bathroom’s over there,” he said with a jab over his right shoulder. “I guess you’re a bit of a lightweight, huh?”

Pride made me swallow back the bile that struggled to climb out of my throat. “No, I’m all right,” I choked out.

“Are you sure? I mean, you really shouldn’t be keeping it in. Especially if you’re going to eat breakfast. You know, eggs, cereal, or bacon. Or sausages, if you prefer that. Me, I like the crunchiness of bacon. Especially when paired with some warm pancakes, gooey butter, and syrup that drips all over the place and runs down—”

The images he painted made me want to give up the fight and hurl on the carpet right there. “No, just—stop. I can’t—” I stopped trying to breathe since the air was making everything worse, and I clenched my lips tightly together instead. I squeezed my eyes closed.
I will not throw up. I
forbid
myself to throw up.

My eyes popped open again when Evan pried my fingers away from my face. I was too surprised by his touch to react. His laughing gray eyes twinkled down at me. He placed an unopened water bottle in my hand and wrapped my fingers around it. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

“I can’t.”

“Trust me. I know how to handle hangovers better than you.” His hands moved up to my shoulders, and he pushed me down on the plush leather chair. “Seriously, just drink it. It’s not poison. I promise.”

I eyed the water. “And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?”

“No, you’ll take my word for it because you don’t have a choice,” he said with a snort. “Besides, if you throw up in here, I’ll have to clean it up, and you can bet your ass I’m not doing that.”

Hmm. He had a point. I took the bottle and forced myself to drink. It threatened to come back up, but I didn’t stop until it was empty. My full stomach bounced uncomfortably, but I didn’t feel like I was going to die anymore.

As Evan watched me, his brows furrowed together until they were practically one dark-blond line. Suddenly, he reached out and touched my forehead.

I jerked my head back and batted his hand away, despite the fact that it was nice and warm against my clammy skin. My fingertips massaged my forehead, and I willed the whole situation to go away. More than anything, I wished this was just a bad nightmare and that I was actually all snug in bed. “Shit, I’m in so much trouble. I’m supposed to meet Brian about the alumni speech. But not before I KILL Carly and—why are you grinning?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” His smile grew so wide that his eyes became slits. “You don’t look like the type of girl who curses much. It’s sort of weird.”

I stared at him. My life was turned upside down, and
that
was the most important thing on his mind right now? “Well, I do when the situation calls for it. And believe me,
this
calls for it. Shit. Shit. Shit.” I actually wasn’t used to cursing, but this was a special occasion. And I was offended by his comment. Like I was some type of Goody Two-Shoes. I would have thought waking up in his bed should have eliminated that possibility.

And why did I even care what he thought of me?

Evan let out a low whistle. “Okay, I get it, Taylor. You’re a badass. Don’t make me have to censor you.”

“Whatever. I’m sure you’ve said much worse—” Wait a second, did he just … “You called me Taylor.”

“Um, yeah. That is your name.”

“But how do you know my name?”

“Because it’s written on your arm?” He pointed at my left arm just as I tried to cover it up. “Besides, we
do
go to school together.”

My jaw dropped. Crap, he knew ME.

I leapt to my feet. The nausea and headache suddenly vanished. It was as if the fear and anxiety had absorbed all the alcohol. Best cure for a hangover? Imagine your reputation tarnished in an instant. Better than tomato juice, or whatever people drank to sober up.

“Listen, Evan. You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this. Ever.” I said the last word as firmly as I could, channeling my dad in the courtroom when he intimidated a witness. “No one can ever know that I spent the night here. Especially with you.”

His forehead wrinkled. “And what’s so bad about me? You know, it
may
be hard to believe, but girls are usually pretty happy when they wake up in my room. Perky, too.”

“Uh, hello?” I grabbed the picture of Boobs Girl off the ground and shoved it in his face.

Evan stared blankly down at the photo and scratched his head, making his hair even more disheveled. My stomach flopped.

“I don’t get it.”

Even though it wasn’t possible, I could practically
feel
my blood pressure rising. I ran my fingers through my own hair, jerking a bit at the clumpy tangles. “Look, I’m sure you’re right. Plenty of girls would love to be here right now. Anyone but me. Seriously. I’m not that kind of girl! I’m a Columbia girl. A future lawyer like my dad. I don’t want be lumped in with a group of bimbos who give pictures of themselves in tiny string bikinis to random guys.”

Evan narrowed his eyes, but I could tell that he was hurt by my rant. A pang of guilt hit me. “That’s not—”

“I know I’m being a jerk.” My hands dropped to my sides. Who was I to judge
them
when I was in the same position? Although technically,
he
was the one sleeping around, not them. So if there was finger-pointing, it should be at him. “They’re not bimbos. I’m sure they’re all very nice. And
pretty
, from the … little that I can actually see. Maybe their cameras slipped and they accidentally took a picture of their boobs. How do I know? Water can be pretty slippery.”

“No, I mean,
this
is a picture of her in her bra.” He leaned toward me and tapped the picture still in my hand.

I dropped the picture like it burned and watched it flutter to the carpet—thankfully, face down. “So, like I said, we should just forget about last night. Not that I actually remember—I mean, it was nothing.”

Evan clenched his fist to his bare chest and doubled over. “Ouch. And here I was pulling out all my best moves for you.”

My cheeks burned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I was joking.”

“Oh.”

“You’re right, though. We should just forget this,” he continued, gesturing toward the bed and then at me. “Whatever
this
was never happened. We don’t even know each other. Hey, do you need a ride home?”

I shoved him back when he took a few steps toward the door. “No, I don’t need a ride! What part of
this didn’t happen
don’t you understand? There will be no rides, no talking, not even a glance between us in the future. Got that?”

“But what if I need to return your underwear or something?”

“You don’t have my—” My hands lowered to my hips, and I almost checked in front of him. “Ha-ha, very funny.”

The corners of his mouth jerked up into a smile again. “I try.”

“Well, from now on, there will be no more mention of my underwear or any other undergarments to anyone.” I held out a hand to him. “Deal?”

Was it my imagination, or did his eyes drop to check me out? His gaze was back on mine in an instant, so I couldn’t be sure. Still, I tugged at the thin straps of my tank top and wrapped my arm across my small chest. I nodded toward my outstretched hand. “Deal?” I repeated, louder this time.

His hand grasped mine, practically dwarfing it. His thumb grazed my knuckles and sent shivers up and down my spine. I forced myself to stand still and stare up at his face, hurting my neck in the process.

“Deal.”

2

{Taylor}

The two-mile walk home took forever. Within minutes, I regretted not accepting Evan’s offer to drive me home. I knew
why
it would have been a bad idea, but with each painful step, the reasons disappeared.

One thing’s for sure, these sandals were definitely
not
made for walking.

Finally home, I barely had time to sneak into the bathroom to throw up before my parents caught me. Kimmy, my nine-year-old baby sister, was sitting at the top of the stairway when I rushed past. She started to call out my name, but I motioned for her to shush. The sweetheart nodded solemnly and mimicked zipping her lips shut.

There was a knock on the bathroom door a few minutes later. “Taylor? I didn’t think you’d be home so soon. I called your phone earlier, but you didn’t pick up, so I called Carly and she told me you were still asleep.”

My hands automatically flew to my pockets, even though I knew my phone wasn’t there. I must have left it at the party or something. “Yeah, sorry, Mom. I think the ringer is off or something,” I called out, trying to sound as normal as I could.

“It’s okay. So did you have fun at the party? Did it help take your mind off things?”

That was an understatement. “Yeah, I can
honestly
say it really did.”

“I knew it would!” I could hear the glee in her voice. “Do you want some breakfast? I made your favorite. French toast with a side of mushroom hash browns. Heavy on the mushrooms.”

Urgh, more food talk. I plopped down next to the toilet again, feeling crappy both inside and out. “Maybe a little later? Let me shower first, okay?”

“Sure.”

Yeah, there was no way I could hide this hangover from Mom and Dad. Especially Dad. That man could detect any hint of weakness and lies. Which is why he’s a great lawyer. Although right now, I wasn’t so proud of those skills.

Once the coast was clear, I poked my head out of the bathroom to check. The hall was empty. Only Kimmy still sat by the top of the stairs, like a guard dog with braids.

I cleared my throat and motioned her forward. “Can you let me know when Mom and Dad are gone? I don’t want to see them right now.”

“But—”

“If you help me and keep this a secret between us, then you can have my French toast with extra syrup. Deal?”

I don’t know if it was the thought of keeping a secret from our parents or the French-toast bribe, but her smile widened until all you could see were her shiny teeth. “Deal!”

After she left, I hopped into the tub. Well, not so much hopped as stumbled around with my head held between my hands in an attempt to make the throbbing stop. Thankfully, the steaming-hot water eased my headache, making everything feel better. Not
perfect
, but better.

I stayed in the shower for ages, until the hot water turned warm and finally piercing cold. Not wanting to turn into an icicle, I finally got out. My fingertips were already wrinkled prunes.

Wrapping a thick cream towel around myself, I wiped at the condensation on the mirror and stared myself down. “So you had a minor setback with Columbia yesterday and Evan this morning. Big whoop.” I narrowed my eyes at my own reflection. “It doesn’t mean anything.
You’re
still Taylor Simmons. You’re still you. You’re still awesome. And this time next year, you’ll be sitting on the Columbia campus thinking,
Evan who?
”

“Tay, Mom and Dad left. Can I eat the French toast in your room?”

A horrified denial automatically sprang to my lips at the image of crumbs and syrup all over my sheets, but I pushed it down at Kimmy’s earnest tone. I owed her one for helping me out anyway. “Sure, but uh, make sure you get extra napkins.”

“Okay!”

I let out a slow, deep breath and pointed a wrinkled finger at the mirror to continue my pep talk. “So pull yourself together. Tomorrow you’re going to go to school and pretend nothing happened. Actually, not even pretend. Because. Nothing. Happened.”