This One is For You

Chapter Twelve

Josie

Before I even open my eyes, I feel the room spinning. I'm never drinking again.

When I pry my eyes open, the sunlight coming in from somewhere causes a sharp pain in my head, and I wince.

Where am I?

I squint against the daylight and take in the surroundings I can see from lying on my back. A white ceiling, a window to my right...

Slowly but surely my hungover brain catches me up, and I sit up with a jolt.

Hudson lies asleep beside me, and I'm guessing we're in his motel room.

The performance, the fight, the break up. It all comes back to me.

The things he said to me on the dance floor...

That's the last thing I remember. Oh no. No, no, no.

Did we sleep together?

Not that I would mind, per say. But I would have preferred not being black-out drunk the first time.

I couldn't even wait a whole day after my breakup?

Shit.

I can't believe I really broke up with Trey.

Another unpleasant thought washes over me—my parents are going to be so unhappy. I bet he's already talked to them.

I cautiously look down at myself. I'm in Hudson's shirt and his boxers.

This isn't good.

"Good morning." Hudson opens one eye. He's on his stomach, his head propped up on his arm. "How are you feeling?"

"Confused. Hungover."

I pull the sheet over myself, even though I'm sure he got plenty of me last night. No need for modesty now.

"That's what you get, you drunk."

"Hudson..." I blurt out, and I'm sure the fear is evident on my face. "We didn't—you know."

"Sleep together? No."

"Oh, thank God."

"Ouch." He sits up, letting the sheet fall to his waist and showing off his toned shirtless body.

"No. It's not—" I sigh, unsure how to admit my want for him in the sober light of day. "I was really drunk. I don't remember how I got here. I didn't want to not remember, if we did."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

I comb my fingers through my tangled hair, taking a deep breath. This is awkward.

"I remember dancing." I hope by saying that, he assumes I remember the dirty words he said to me under strobe lights. Because I do.

Hudson nods, and I hope he doesn't regret it. I don't think he was as drunk as me, but what if he was and didn't mean a word he said? What if we just got caught up in the moment?

"After we danced, you took another shot and then you puked all over yourself and the floor."

"Gross." My stomach churns at the thought. "So, you brought me here?"

"After I mopped up your vomit like the knight-in-shining-armor that I am, I drove us here. Then, I had to help you out of your puke-clothes and into the shower."

I chance a look at him, even though the embarrassment of everything that's happened is overwhelming. His charcoal hair is disheveled and he's running his hands over his face.