Free Drawn by Lilliana Anderson Page B

me.
    “You don’t remember?”
    “I remember dancing. I remember drinking. Then I wanted to visit the bathroom but I ended up outside… and you… you were fighting?”
    He smiles, only one side of his lip turning upward as he reaches out and removes the now empty glass from my hands.
    “You had a bit too much to drink, passed out, and I brought you here to sleep it off.”
    “How did you get me here?”
    “With great difficulty,” he laughs through his nose. “But I couldn’t really take you home. Your father would have my head.”
    “Oh no! What time is it? I should be home. He’ll refuse to let me move out.”
    “Relax, your mum texted to see if you were still out and having fun. So I replied for you – told her you were still at the party and still having a great time. She said to keep going, and let her deal with your dad. I think you’re pretty safe, but… you smell like spew.”
    “Oh shit,” I moan, looking down at my new dress and seeing splatters of sick on it from the vodka mixes I was drinking. “I’m dead.”
    “No you’re not. Here, put these on,” he says, throwing a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt at me. “We can get that cleaned in the laundry downstairs.”
    “Are you going to stand there and watch me?” I ask, as I pick up the clothes.
    Grinning, he shakes his head. “I thought you might want to take a shower first. There’s a clean towel in the bathroom,” he says, nodding toward the door.
    “Oh, of course,” I stammer, pushing through my legs to stand. Although I’m still feeling dizzy and stumble forward a little.
    Damien rises instantly and steadies me, his arms sliding around my waist and holding my elbow. “You made a right mess of yourself, didn’t you?” he points out, his voice so gentle, it causes emotion to prick behind my eye.
    I simply nod, my own self-pity winning over as a tear manages to escape and slide down my cheek.
    “Come on,” he says softly, as he leads me out of the room and into the bathroom. Due to the sick feeling in my stomach, I drop down on top of the closed lid of the toilet and lean against his vanity while he prepares the shower for me.
    “You’re very tidy,” I comment, looking around and noticing how clean the tiles and basin are in his bathroom.
    “Not every guy is a pig,” he says, running his forearm under the water to test the temperature. “It’s fine now. Will you be ok?”
    “Yes. I’m not letting you undress me.”
    “I’m not suggesting that. I just don’t want you to fall and hit your head.”
    “Ok, I get it. You’re worried about my father’s wrath.”
    “No. I’m actually worried about you. What would have happened if I didn’t take care of you tonight? Where the hell was Aaron?”
    “I don’t know. I think he was getting us drinks.”
    “Well you don’t leave a girl on her own in a club – ever,” he spits out, glaring at me. His outburst causes me to jump slightly, and I’m unsure of how to react.
    “Take your shower. Then I’ll wash your clothes and take you home,” he says calmly as he walks out of the door.
    For a while I just sit there, feeling horrible and deeply regretting getting myself into this situation. I’m suddenly realising why my father was so against me going out – I’ve managed to make a total fool of myself.
    As I shower, using Damien’s Lynx body wash to clean my hair, and his mouthwash to remove the terrible taste from my mouth, I slowly start to feel human again. Turning off the water, I step out onto the floor mat and dry myself before getting back into my underwear – at least I didn’t vomit all over that.
    My dress however , is a total mess, and I feel so terrible for behaving badly. I pick up the navy blue cotton boxer shorts and hold them in front of me. Damien has really narrow hips. I’m not sure that his things will fit me.
    Sliding them over my legs, I sigh as I feel the material pull tight around my thighs and buttocks. Suddenly that song about ‘short