Right Back On

Thirty-Two

Knock, knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

I groggily lifted my head as the incessant pounding grew louder and more urgent. Part of me prayed that the sound was coming from the room next door, but that thought flitted away as my eyes adjusted to see our bedroom door shaking in the dark.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

I glanced to Blake's sleeping form. Her bed was closer to the door but she still didn't stir. That might've had something to do with the copious amount of alcohol in her system when she'd stumbled into the room mere hours before, on top of her ridiculously heavy sleeping habits.

The thumps ceased for a few blessed seconds, but in turn, my phone began buzzing and flashing from its place on the night stand to my left.

Since I obviously wasn't going to be left alone, I answered groggily without checking the name.

"Hullo?"

"Oh, good, I did wake you up. I was starting to think you were as heavy of a sleeper as Blake!"

I shoved the matted hair out of my face and sat up in bed, switching the phone to my other ear. "Wyatt?"

"Yes, lovely?"

"Why in the hell are you calling me at," I removed the phone from my face to check the time, "6:03 in the morning? We pretty much just got to sleep."

"Aw, were you up thinking about me?"

I snorted as memories of my night flooded back. Had I not been up for two hours holding Blake's hair for her while she puked, I probably would have laid awake thinking about him. But, on the contrary, I'd spent the night being a good best friend (since Colt hadn't kept his promise) instead of replaying every detail from our midnight breakfast run and adorable karaoke date.

"You're a terrible guesser," I chuckled humorlessly.

His reply was honest. "Yeah, I know. But Coda?"

"What?"

"Will you let me in? Pretty please?"

I stared at the ceiling for a moment, wondering why Wyatt would want into my hotel room at this ungodly hour.

The low battery light on my phone began flashing, accompanied by an obnoxious beeping that said it would die in a few seconds.

"Fine," I muttered, just in time for the device to shut down.

After struggling to jab my charger into it correctly, I stumbled past an unmoving Blake in the direction of the door. I didn't make it there unscathed, though. First, my legs got tangled in a discarded pair of jeans and I almost fell. Then, about three feet from the door, a pair of boots with spurs on them brought me to my knees with an ungraceful thud and groan.

If looks could kill, Wyatt would've dropped dead the second I yanked open the door.

He gave me a sympathetic once-over. "Rough morning?"

I was too irritated with my lack of coordination to even care that Wyatt was seeing me in all my morning glory of bed head, a tank top, and running shorts. "Yes."