Free Blame It on the Shame (Blame It on the Shame: Lou-Lou and Ricardo's Story #1) by Ashley Jade Page A

a dirty look but it's quickly replaced by panic...right before she proceeds to blow chunks.
    Begrudgingly, I hold her hair up for her. “I really don't feel good,” she says. “I'm never getting drunk again.”
    “Famous last words.”
    She starts trembling and panting between dry heaves. “I'm serious. I'm not even a big drinker in the first place.”
    “Oh, so you're just a heroin addict then?”
    “Fuck you,” she spews. “I'm not—” She pauses. “You don't know a damn thing about me, you judgmental asshole.”
    She bats my hand away but she's so uncoordinated it doesn't do any good.“You know what? I don't need your help—” she starts to say before the next round hits her with a vengeance.
    I stand directly behind her and place my arm around her waist so she doesn't fall. I use my other hand to rub soothing circles down her back until she relaxes against me.
    She's right...I don't know a thing about her. Besides, who the hell am I to judge anyone in the first place?
    I'm certainly no upstanding citizen myself.
    She's still going at it so I wait between rounds to ask, “Did you eat today?”
    She shakes her head and I sigh. “Rookie mistake number one. If you're going to down two bottles of wine during dinner you need to take a few bites of the dinner first.”
    “I just need some coffee,” she says, attempting to stand up straight.
    “Nope,” I say. “Coffee, showers, bread...none of that shit actually works.”
    I crack open the water bottle and hold it up to her lips. “Open.” She opens her mouth and takes a few small sips. “The only thing that works is time. You just have to ride it out while the alcohol passes through your system.”
    I open the car door for her and help her inside. “Make sure you keep sipping the water.”
    “Thank you,” she whispers before she rubs her temples and winces. “God, I really don't feel good.”
    I walk over to my side of the car and slide in the seat. “We'll be home in a little while.”
    I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and hand her two ibuprofen. “Take these and get some sleep. Should make things better.”
    She swallows the pills and her head lolls to the side. “I can't sleep. I don't sleep at night.”
    Her statement slams into me because I've never known anyone to have that problem.
    Well...besides me.
    I'm want to inquire about it further, but I look over at her and sure as shit.
    She's passed out cold.
    I reach for her wrist and feel for her pulse to make sure she's okay before I begin driving.
    Annoyance gnaws at me during the rest of the drive home.
    I hate the predicament I'm in. Why the hell did I ever agree to this in the first place?
    I might not know anything about her, but I'm not a babysitter and I really don't have time to deal with whatever problems she has.
    To put it frankly, I don't want the added responsibility of having to take care of this girl.
    Especially a girl who I'm convinced should come with a damn warning label.

    She's still sleeping when I pull up to the apartment complex and park in my secluded parking spot located in the back. That means I have no choice but to carry her ass into the building.
    I ask her if DeLuca handed her a set of keys to her humble abode, but her only response is an unintelligible muffle before she buries her head against my chest.
    I curse when I realize that it's too late to call the super of the building and get a set of spare keys from him.
    In other words, I'm stuck with her until morning.
    Fucking perfect .
    I make my way up the staircase with her in my arms and jet for the door to my apartment.
    Only to be stopped in my tracks by Jackson and Tyrone coming out of their apartment.
    Their expressions are a mixture of concern and amusement. No doubt due to the passed out girl wearing a skin tight mini dress in my arms.
    Tyrone speaks first, “Who's the girl?” I open my mouth to answer but Jackson raises an eyebrow. “Better question... why is she unconscious?”
    Shit, how