The Girl Next Door
Chapter 27

I shovel a spoonful of Honey Nut Cheerios into my mouth as the door to Alyssa's bedroom swings open, and she stumbles out. The sleek, sophisticated girl I picked up from the airport the other day is nowhere in sight. The transformation is almost impressive. Alyssa's blond hair is sticking up from every angle. It wouldn't surprise me if birds have nested in the disarrayed strands. Eyeliner and mascara are smudged under her eyes, giving her a raccoonish appearance.

The girl is one hot mess, which hopefully means she had an amazing time at her party last night. I wasn't expecting Alyssa to show her face until at least noon. I left the club around two o'clock and promptly passed out on my bed. I have no idea when Alyssa made it back to the apartment. "Hey," my spoon pauses midair, "how are you feeling?" By the looks of her, I'm pretty sure I know the answer to that question.

"Stop shouting." She winces before grabbing the sides of her head. "Please, I beg of you."

"That good, hmm?" The way she was tossing back shots last night was enough to make me nauseous. I didn't consume nearly the amount she did, and I was feeling it. How else do you explain my lapse in judgment? Alyssa should probably thank her lucky stars she didn't die of alcohol poisoning.

"Let me guess, you're looking for a little hair of the dog that bit you?" I can't resist teasing her. "I'm sure we have a bottle of tequila around here somewhere. Want me to get it?"

"God, no." Her skin turns an unnatural greenish hue at the mention of alcohol. "I'm never drinking again."

I snicker. Alyssa has never been a big drinker, but she likes to have a good time. I give it a week or two before she's back on the horse again.

Once her color returns, she points to the kitchen. "I need massive amounts of Tylenol and Gatorade.

She staggers into the other room before returning with a humongous bottle of the orange sports drink. Her fingers fumble as she attempts to twist off the cap.

"Why did you let me drink so much," she groans, successfully prying off the top and chugging a quarter of it. Then she presses her fingers against her mouth before releasing a loud belch.

"If memory serves, I told you several times to slow down, but you weren't in the mood to listen. At one point, you called me a buzzkill." When she remains silent, I ask, "Exactly how many shots did you have?"

"I lost count after eight." She shakes her head and waves a hand. "Please, I can't even think about that. It'll make me sick. Never mind, I'm already sick." She points to her room. "I'm going back to bed. Wake me up tomorrow. Or maybe the day after that. Hopefully, I'll have bounced back by then."

Alyssa walks a couple of steps before swinging around to face me. With her free hand, she grabs her head as if she's trying to hold it in place. "Wait a minute." She raises a hand and massages her temple. "Were you busting a move on the dance floor with Beck, or was that a tequila-induced dream?"

I wince at the memory and glance away guiltily before shoving another spoonful of cereal into my mouth. I was really hoping she wouldn't remember that part of the evening.

If only it had stayed as innocent as dancing. My face heats as I recall the way Beck set me on the desk and spread me wide, licking me until I orgasmed.

When I fail to respond, she takes another step and jabs a finger at me. Her eyes lose some of their haziness. "Yeah," she mutters, "you two were definitely dancing. His hands were all over you. And you, ya little hussy, were totally enjoying it." Oh, God...

This isn't a topic I want to delve straight into at nine o'clock on a Sunday morning. In fact, I don't want to think about it ever again. For reasons I can't explain, I am ridiculously attracted to Beck. Even though he is all kinds of wrong for me, my feelings have yet to dissipate. Every time I catch sight of him, my heartbeat skitters, and the muscles in my belly contract.

He's the last person I want to feel this way about.

His words from last night ring unwantedly in my head.

Your days of running from me are numbered.

Was he serious?

I'm not even sure what that means. Hopefully, nothing.

Alyssa waves her hand in front of my face. "Hello? Earth to Mia. Come in, Mia."

I snap out of those disconcerting thoughts. "Sorry," I mumble.

"Please tell me I wasn't hallucinating. Because if that's the case, I really am going to lay off the booze."

"No," I admit, "we danced together." I'm reluctant to give her further details. The last thing I need is Alyssa rooting for a relationship that is doomed to fail before it even starts.

Last night was a bad decision on my part. We need to leave it at that.

You know what this situation calls for?

A change in topic.

I raise my brow and turn the tables. "Is there anything you would like to tell me about?"

"Huh?" Her face scrunches.

"I saw you at the bar with Colton."

She blinks away the confusion as her expression hardens. "Can you believe that guy had the audacity to show his face after I purposefully went out of my way not to invite him?" "Umm, maybe?" I pause. "Any interesting conversations?"

She moves to the armchair before slumping onto it and squeezing her eyes shut. "He wants to be friends," she mutters. "Don't worry, I was extremely clear about where he can shove his friendship." I bet she was.

My lips lift into a smile. Once you've landed on Alyssa's s**t list, there's no way off it. Poor Colton. He should walk away while he still can.

"Maybe that was the closure you needed to move on. Feel any better about getting it out of your system?"

Even though her eyelids remain closed, her lips tug down at the corners. "Surprisingly, no."

"I'm proud of you for giving him a piece of your mind. That took balls," I tell her.

She snorts. "As far as I'm concerned, he can shove those up his a*s as well."

"Sounds like his a*s is a crowded place."

Alyssa cracks open her eyelids and stares at me for a moment before we both burst out laughing. "Yeah, it does."