12. Christa

I stumbled out of bed,desperate to get to the bathroom. Flicking on the water, I cupped my hands under the cool stream and sucked down the small amount I could fit in my hands. It wasn’t enough. I felt like I had cotton in my mouth. What the hell happened last night?

Shutting off the water, I walked back to my bedroom and stopped when I saw the massive giant laying in my bed. “Oh, crap,” I muttered, pressing my hand to my forehead.

It was all coming back to me now. How he showed up at my door—no, he was in my kitchen. He broke in! Oh geez, and then I let him do those things to me on the table and…

There was wine.

Lots and lots of wine.

I bit my lip as I closed my eyes. I had to be dreaming. It couldn’t have happened. I pressed my hands against the wall for balance as I headed down the hallway.

“Please tell me it was a dream,” I whispered.

But the evidence was all over the living room. Wine bottles littered the floor, leading right up to the front window. The curtains were pulled to the side and marks were smeared over the glass. I pressed my hand to my forehead and slowly sank down in the chair as I remembered how he took me against the window and smeared my cum all over it as proof to the neighbors.

In a flash, I was out of my chair and darting for the cleaning supplies. I didn’t care if the neighbors couldn’t actually see it or if nobody would know what those marks were. It was so wrong.

And yet, when I sprayed the cleaning solution on the window, a pang of regret shot through me. Not because I didn’t like what happened last night, but because I was erasing all my vague memories with the swipe of a cloth. It felt so wrong. Still, my dad was supposed to come over this morning in…

I glanced at the clock and nearly screamed. He would be here any minute and the house was a disaster. Not to mention, there was a very naked man in my bed. The first thing I had to do was clean up. I ran for the garbage can, but then stopped. No, the first thing I had to do was get the naked man out of my bed.

Running down the hall, I nearly crashed into the wall in my desperate attempt to wake the man up and get him out of here. I rushed to the bed and shook him wildly.

“Max! You have to get up!”

He groaned, but refused to wake up.

“Max!” I shouted, still not getting a response. I turned to the bathroom and filled the small three-ounce paper cup on the counter, then ran back to the bedroom, tossing it on his face. It trickled down one cheek, barely getting him wet. It was like throwing a cup of water on a burning house.

The doorbell rang and I spun, grasping my head in horror. Not knowing what to do, I ran back to the bathroom and grabbed the shower head extension, pointing it at Max as I turned the water on full blast. It didn’t even make it five feet past the bathroom.

Screaming under my breath, I shut the water off and ran into the bedroom, slipping on the wet floor and falling on my butt. The doorbell rang again, and I knew I couldn’t stay any longer. I had to get rid of my dad. I pulled the door shut, glancing down at my half-naked body. I ran for the living room and shoved all the bottles behind the pillows on the couch, then grabbed the throw and pulled it around my shoulders, hoping that would be enough to cover my body.

I rushed to the door, blowing out a deep breath before pulling it open. “Hey, Dad.”

His eyes roamed over me in shock. “Christa, what…is everything okay?”

For a moment, panic set in over having to lie to my father, but there was no other way around it. I couldn’t tell him I had a man in my room.

“I’m not feeling good.” The lie slipped past my lips easier than I expected.

“Oh, well, let me come in and make you something.”

“No!” I shouted, taking my father by surprise. “I mean, I don’t want to get you sick. It’s really bad.”

“Then I should help you.”

“No, I mean, it was really bad. I’m feeling a little better now, but I haven’t disinfected the house yet.”

“Still, I think I should?—”

He tried to squeeze past me, but I blocked the door and refused to let him in. “Seriously, it’s really gross in there. Tissues all over the floor and I think there’s still throw up in one of the garbage cans.”

He grimaced, but still looked determined. One thing about my father, he was old-fashioned, but also never strayed from taking care of me when I didn’t feel well. “Honey, I’ve seen it all.”

A loud crash sounded from my room and I winced, hoping that was all he would hear.

“What was that? Is someone there?”

“No,” I answered quickly, but then there was another crash. “I mean, besides my new cat.”

“You got a cat?”

“I’m…fostering.” I swallowed around the dryness coating my throat. “Um…I have him in the room because he’s really wild. In fact, I should go check on him.”

He nodded, his eyes trailing down my neck. “Is that where you got those scratches and bruises?”

My hand instantly shot to my neck, feeling the faint lines from the way Max roughly took me last night. “Must have been. Honestly, I was out of it last night. Too much cold medicine.”

“Well, that certainly explains your muddled state.”

“Exactly. In fact, I think I’m just gonna go back to bed.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m beat,” I said, flushing as I remembered Max slapping my butt.

I was sure I turned bright red at the memory, but if my father noticed, he most likely chalked it up to me feeling sick.

“Well, stay home for a few days. I’ll let everyone know practices are canceled. We can have Judy play something on the organ for the special music.”

“That would be great,” I said, hoping to get him out to leave.

“Feel better, sweetie.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

I shut the door, locking it behind me as I sank back against the door. Now to deal with the man in my bedroom. Pushing away from the thin barricade between me and where my father just stood, I tossed the throw on the couch and hurried down the hall to my bedroom, flinging open the door. Max was laying on the floor, rubbing his back.

“Oh my gosh. Are you okay?”

“There’s water on the floor. Why is there water on the floor?”

“Because I was trying to wake you up,” I hissed.

“By pouring water on the floor?” he asked in confusion.

I rushed over and grabbed his arm, attempting to pull the hulk of a man off the floor. Not that I would have much luck. The man was huge. “No, I was trying to spray you with the shower head. You have to leave. My father was here and the neighbors are watching everything!”

He stumbled to his feet, grabbing the wall to keep from falling. “No need to explain. All you had to say was father,” he chuckled.

“Great. Glad you understand. So, you can leave now.”

He flinched back in surprise. “You’re kicking me out?”

“We just talked about this,” I said in exasperation.

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Well…no woman has ever kicked me out of her bed before.”

I ignored the puzzled look on his face and tried not to think about how many women that was exactly. I didn’t want to think about the ten women that came before me. Or possibly more.

“Look, as much as I enjoyed having you here, this can’t happen again.”

“Why not?”

That was a good question. Was I really telling him I didn’t want to see him again after agonizing over whether or not he would contact me? The problem was, I loved spending time with him…sleeping with him, but I needed more. I couldn’t just be his booty call. In the end, it would only make me feel worse.

“Max, you’re…probably a great guy, but this isn’t me.”

He swayed on his feet slightly, frowning at me. Then, he reached out and poked me in the arm. “It feels like you.”

“That’s not what I mean,” I snapped at the drunken man. My head was pounding and I had the worst case of dry mouth in my life. I just wanted to go back to bed, preferably with him. But that wasn’t going to happen, and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to explain all this to him.

“So, why don’t you say what you do mean, baby.”

“I mean…I’m not a woman who sleeps around.”

“You did a pretty good job of it last night. And the night at the bar,” he grinned.

“Yes, and while I loved…what you did to me, I can’t keep doing this. I need more, and I’m not sure you’re the man to give that to me.”

I waited for him to correct me, for him to tell me he wanted to make this work. But instead, he just nodded, dashing my hopes that he would be the man I needed.

“I understand. And hey, if you change your mind, you give me a call.”

I pursed my lips at him. “I don’t have your number.”

“Right. Okay then. This was fun and…I guess I’ll see you around.”

That was it. He picked his hat up off the floor, then grabbed his sunglasses and headed for the front door. Disappointment ran rampant through my heart as I watched him pull his shoes on. He was the first man I really felt a connection with, but it was all superficial. Maybe I would never find a man who truly wanted me.

He opened the door, but stopped before walking through it. When he turned to me, hope bloomed in my chest and a smile lit my face.

“You wouldn’t by any chance be able to tell me what scent you wear, would you?”

“What?” I asked in confusion.

“It’s just…I sleep really well with it on my pillow.”

I pressed my hand to his chest and pushed him through the door, then slammed it in his face.

Men.