T-shirt,’ I mumbled, breaking away from the kiss. Woah. Dizzy. ‘For dinner.’
‘Let me help,’ Joe said, slipping his hands under the thin material of my shirt and guiding it up over my head and then hooking it back around my waist, holding me close to him. ‘You want to change your jeans too?’
My skin burned where he had touched me and my lips were desperate for more kisses but, really, my primary concern was just staying upright. Kisses were bad. Even if they felt delicious, they were bad. ‘I’m all right in my jeans actually,’ I managed eventually. Joe released his grip around my waist only for me to fall forwards into him. Stupid traitor legs.
‘You should definitely change.’ Joe dropped my T-shirt and found the waistband of my jeans. Why did I wear slouchy jeans today? If I’d have been in my skinnies, he wouldn’t have been able to get a toothpick down there, let alone an entire hand down the back of the waistband. Oh, and now down the back of my knickers. If the room would just stop spinning for a moment, I’d be able to sort myself out.
‘Nope, no, I’m fine,’ I insisted, pushing him away. Or at least I hoped I was pushing him away. There was every chance I was actually just thrusting myself into him. Everything was starting to get a little bit confusing. ‘I think I should go to bed.’
‘I think so too,’ he said, his breath hot on my neck, followed by his lips, followed by his fingers, all wrapped up in my hair. I tried not to close my eyes but it was hard. I tried not to let Joe push me back on the bed but with one slightly graceless shuffle, my resolve and my balance caved in.
‘Where were we with your jeans?’
‘I think I should call Alex,’ I whispered against the weight of Joe on top of me. Why was a big heavy man so much more preferable than a quilt when you’d had a drink? ‘This is not good.’
‘Not good?’ he whispered in my ear, planting a string of kisses from my throat up to my lips. Where was my T-shirt? Why was I in my bra? ‘Doesn’t it feel good?’
‘No?’ I protested weakly by holding my hands out in front of me. Apparently this was also a come-on. Someone laced their fingers through mine and pushed my hands up above my head. I was so tired and so warm and so … no, something wasn’t right. And it wasn’t just the fact that I couldn’t really see any more. ‘I have to speak to Alex.’
‘How about I be Alex?’ said the low voice in my ear. ‘And you just do what you’re doing.’
‘You’re Alex?’ I closed my eyes just for a moment. When did that happen? But yay, Alex. ‘Oh, I love you.’
‘Yeah, I love you too,’ the voice whispered back. ‘You’re not going to fall asleep, are you?’
‘Nope,’ I replied, closing them for a moment more. ‘I don’t think so.’ And it was true: passing out wasn’t exactly the same as falling asleep, was it?
Waking up with a throbbing head, a mouth like Gandhi’s flip-flop and the overwhelming urge to turn my stomach inside out was not something I’d ever planned on turning into a hobby, but here I was, the second day in a row, getting ever so good at it. As well as drinking enough to put an elephant down, I’d also apparently forgotten to close the curtains, and the painfully bright LA sun beamed through the floor-to-ceiling glass. Not nice.
I peeled my face off the pillowcase (drool was an amazing natural adhesive) and pushed myself into a semi-vertical sitting position. Which was when I realized that there was someone else in the bed. And I was in my bra. And, a quick shuffle confirmed, my pants. Thank Christ for that at least. Not that there was any guarantee that they had been on all night long.
As my heart dropped into my stomach, I felt it start to race, apparently in competition with my brain. But there was nothing. Complete blank. I leaned over the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb the clearly rumpled bedclothes, and groped around on the floor for my T-shirt. Whoever this was and whatever I’d done, I didn’t want to deal with it in my underwear. Even if he had already seen me in it. Apparently.
Walking my fingers along the floor until the tips just reached my top, I noticed another larger, darker shirt beside it. A black, collarless shirt looking just like the millions of work shirts from The Union that Jenny left lying around our apartment. Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit shit shit. Really not wanting to confirm what was already coming rushing back to me, I turned my head slowly. Lying beside me, completely out of it, was Joe. I didn’t dare peek under the covers but next to his shirt were his shoes. And next to them, his trousers. Oh shit shit shit shit. Without thinking, I bolted out of the bed as fast as my wobbly legs would carry me, grabbed my phone from the bedside table and made for the door.
‘Jenny!’ I yelled, hammering her door down, while pulling on my T-shirt in the hallway. I nodded at a passing couple, too stressed to be embarrassed about being busted in my underwear in a hotel hallway. This was the walk of shame in the extreme. ‘Jenny, for fuck’s sake, open the door.’
A couple of seconds later, I heard the latch click and the door gave way to reveal a mighty pissed-off-looking Jenny. ‘Angela, it’s really, really freaking early. What the fuck?’
‘Just let me in,’ I pushed past her into the identical hotel room. Unsurprisingly for Jenny, it was a complete shit-tip. Clothes, carrier bags, shoes and towels everywhere. ‘I need your help.’
‘What else am I here for?’ she muttered, closing the door behind me. ‘It’s not like I have a hangover or anything.’
‘Where were you last night?’ I asked, surveying the bombsite that was her room. From the four-inch heels and slinky dress lying in a silky, spiky pool by her bed, I guessed she’d been out.
‘I told you, Tessa invited me to the awards thing she was doing. You got my message, right?’ Jenny yawned and grabbed the hotel phone. ‘Hi, could I get coffee and uh, I don’t know, toast?’ She paused and gave me a questioning look. I nodded back, knowing for a fact that I wouldn’t be eating anything for a good couple of hours yet. ‘Yeah, coffee and toast sent up? Thanks.’ She threw herself backwards on the bed and started popping M&Ms from an open pack on the bedside table. ‘I love being on the other end of that phone. So what’s up? You look like shit.’
Gingerly, I joined her on the bed, trying not to make it bounce for fear of vomming. ‘Uh, I think I’ve done something really stupid?’
‘So what’s new?’ Jenny raised an eyebrow. ‘I told you not to go meet James yesterday. What did you do now?’
‘It’s kind of a “who did I do?” problem.’
‘What?’
I knew she was paying attention when the M&Ms she was throwing down her throat missed her mouth and clattered against the window. ‘Angie, what the hell?’
‘Well, things didn’t go well with James and so I came back and had a couple of drinks.’ I really hadn’t thought this through. How could I phrase this? ‘A lot of drinks, actually. And then I went upstairs for more drinks.’
‘When we get back to New York, I swear I’m putting you in AA,’ Jenny muttered. ‘Or at least getting you one of those Lindsay Lohan ankle monitors. You picked up a guy in the bar?’
‘Mm-hmm,’ I traced the edge of my big toenail and wondered when I’d chipped my pedicure. ‘Jenny, I’m such an idiot.’
‘Angie,’
