My Date with the Frat President

Ch. 5 Goddamn Independent

I make it into the trash can, my hands clutching the sides. Everyone around me starts making disgusted noises and angry whispers. I shut my eyes tight to block out everyone. I can just picture Aiden being completely disgusted and embarrassed that his date threw up right next to the dance floor.

I feel like crying, so I do.

I'm not really a big crier, but when I have enough alcohol I cry over everything. One time, when Sophie and I went to a frat party, I lost beer pong and cried for ten minutes straight.

"Brooklyn, you okay?" Aiden's hand touches my back softly. "We can head up to the room." He hands me a napkin probably so I can wipe my vomit mouth. "You okay?"

I nod and take the napkin. "I'm sorry." The tears just won't stop, no matter how much I ask them to.

"Hey, you're okay," he says with a comforting smile. "Last formal I ripped my pants and flashed everyone with my ass!"

"I'm sure your ass is so tight it wouldn't even be embarrassing," I say in a sob. "You have a better ass than me!"

Aiden takes us up to our hotel room after finding me a bag just in case I have another incident. He asks the front desk lady for a water bottle and gives it to me.

"I'm sorry I'm such a hot mess," I say when we step into our tiny suite.

"You're right about the hot part," Aiden says, turning on the lights.

I take my heels off and throw myself onto the queen-sized bed. My dress slid up a little on my thighs, but I'm too drunk to even consider readjusting it.

Aiden slides his shoes off and starts loosening his tie. He unbuttons his shirt four buttons, but sadly leaves the rest fastened. I wouldn't have minded a strip tease part two, my own private show.

He digs through his bag and finds a t-shirt and boxers, throwing them at me. "You can wear these to bed. That dress can't be comfortable."

I thank him and stumble my way into the bathroom. I take a chance to look at myself in the mirror. For a second, I think maybe I accidentally summoned Bloody Mary herself. That's how horrifying I looked.

My mascara smudged under my eyes, my hair knotted, a red stain outlining my lips from all the drinks. And Aiden said I looked beautiful? Someone was just trying to get into my pants.

I say it as if I wouldn't have wanted that.

Scrubbing my face with hand soap and water, I do a decent job at getting majority of the mess off. I change into a t-shirt with STD in giant letters on the front and slip the plaid boxers on. One of my best looks, if I do say so myself.

Aiden's shirtless and in boxers by the time I leave the bathroom. "What side of the bed do you sleep on?"

I almost don't hear the question, deafened by the half-naked god standing in front of me. "Oh, uh, the left."

"I also sleep on the left," he says.

"We can compromise," I suggest and climb into the bed. "I'll sleep on the left."

"And how is that compromising?"

I take advantage of being the drunkest person in the room and say, "you sleep on the left too." I pat the empty mattress beside me.