Worth the Chase

chapter four

RYAN

I groan when I hear a buzz in the distance—the sound feeling like a swarm of bees trapped inside my head. I squint, the bright morning light barreling through the window. I always draw the curtains before I turn in for the night; I hate sleeping with any ounce of light. But it seems like my fatigued mind did not get the memo.

I don't remember much from last night, but that's no surprise as this wouldn't be the first time I've blacked out from exhaustion alone.

Immediately closing my eyes again to avoid the impending hangover, I pat around for my phone, which continues to vibrate in the distance. But instead of coming in contact with it, my hand meets a warm, firm surface. Confused, I continue to feel around until I brush against what appears to be a nose.

I jolt up in a panic, instantly regretting it when a heavy pounding starts in my temples, spreading back to the crown of my skull. Ignoring it, I glance over to see Carsen sleeping next to me in my bed—wait, no. Looking around and examining the room, I realize it's not my room.

Slowly images from last night come back to me. We were dancing together, grinding and swaying, before we started kissing. He suggested we come back to his place, and my ass thought that was a great idea. Instantly, events from the night before surface to the forefront of my mind, causing blood to warm my cheeks—images of him moving over me, holding me, caressing me, kissing me all night long.

I groan, rubbing my hands over my face and wiping away the sleep. It's then that I realize I'm still completely naked, and my phone is still going off. Great, just great. I quietly slip out and wince. My legs are completely sore, and there's a slight kink in my hip.

As I button up my skirt, I spot my phone under his desk. I grab it and see two missed calls from my mom and a couple of texts from Ethan. Shit! I slap my palm against my forehead when I remember the weekly family brunch I have this morning—that conveniently slips my mind every Sunday. Since it's Homecoming weekend, Ethan offered to pick me up, knowing that Uber rates will surge this weekend.

This day just keeps getting better and better, and it's not even noon.

I text Ethan letting him know to pick me up in an hour, giving me enough time to run home and quickly shower before brunch. The last thing I need is my parents to question my whereabouts for the previous night.

I turn in pursuit of finding my top and slip out before Carsen wakes up. It's bad enough that I slept with him after telling myself I wouldn't last night; I don't need him to wake up and make a smug comment about it which I assume he will.

But it seems like luck isn't on my side today because I hear some ruffling and a groan as I skirt around the bed to look for my top. I hear rather than see him sit up, his gaze heating my back, the air becoming thick as I can just feel the smirk on his face.

"Well, look who's trying to slip out without saying goodbye." His voice is deep and husky from just waking up, which prickles my skin in goosebumps. While I wish I could blame this reaction on alcohol or exhaustion, I can't, but I can blame it on my inability to function due to the hangover I'm sporting.

Being childish and petty—because I can—I continue to avoid his gaze. I could easily pick up one of his random shirts and leave, but I don't want to leave behind my expensive top. Where the hell is my top? Frustrated, I stand up straight with my back to him and slap my hands on my thighs. I'm sure we took it off while in bed; where is it?

"Looking for this?" The smile in his voice is evident, his voice still rough. I groan internally.

Steeling my shoulders, I clench my hands into small fists, crossing my arms in front of my chest. He may have seen everything already last night, but that doesn't mean he can have another free show right now. Lifting my head, I finally get a good look at him and fuck, why does he have to be so beautiful.