Rocked

by Maya Hughes

  “It’s okay,” she said. Then got a strange look on her face as she stared past him. It passed and she glanced back up at him with a strained smile on her face.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Not feeling too well,” she said, resting her hand on her stomach.

  “Too much to drink?”

  “I only had three all night.” He resisted the urge to reach out and touch her forehead to make sure she was okay.

  “Those Bombshells are pretty strong.”

  “Yeah, they are, but I’m not that much of a lightweight. I think it might have been something I ate before I got here tonight.”

  His car service pulled up and he stepped up to it.

  “Do you want a ride? I’m sure you don’t want to be waiting out here for a taxi.”

  She glanced down at her phone, bit her lip. Touching her screen, she tapped it a few times and, she nodded her head.

  “Sure, thanks,” she said, looking like she would keel over any minute. He opened the door for her and let her scoot across the backseat of the car. She rattled off her address and he let the guy know they would be going there first, then to his hotel. He dumped the duffle in the trunk and gently laid his guitar case on top. Climbing into the backseat, he sat back and glanced over at Keira. She did not look good. Her skin was a nice shade of green. The car pulled away from the curb and she rested her head against the glass of her window.

  “So, are you going to be teaching this summer?” he said, suddenly incredibly awkward in the back of the taxi with a sick woman. She held up one finger.

  “Can you pull over, please?” she practically shouted at the driver. He cut off two cars and got to the side of the road in record time. The second the car came to a stop, she threw open the door and stuck her head out, puking all over the concrete. The distinct sound of puke hitting the ground filtered back into the car. He reached over and gathered up her long hair to try to keep it out of the way. He’d been in enough bars and backstage parties to know that’s the kind of stuff you did for a puking woman. After what seemed like a voluminous amount of puke for such a small woman, she reached back for her bag on the seat. He pushed it toward her and she mumbled some thanks, head still outside the car. She pulled some napkins out of it and wiped her mouth.

  “Thanks,” she said, turning back to him.

  “No worries, we’ve all been there.” He gave her a smile and she closed the door and rested her head against the back of the seat. The driver seemed reluctant to pull away in case there was any residual up-chucking.

  “She’s good, go ahead. Let’s get back on the road.” He hoped she’d be okay. Did she have a roommate? Someone who could make sure she’d be okay tonight?

  The driver pulled back into traffic and continued on to the address she’d given earlier. Keira rested her head against the window and when they pulled up to her apartment complex she was out cold. He shook her a few times and her eyes didn’t even flutter.

  “Keira? We’re at your apartment, Keira,” he brushed her hair back from her face. “Keira,” he said, shaking her. She grumbled, but didn’t even bat an eyelash. The apartment complex was huge and he had no idea which apartment was hers. Should he go to the rental office? It was probably closed. Go through her bag? Making a split decision, he told the driver to turn around and just take him back to the hotel.

  She stayed completely passed out for the entire drive there. He reached out and wrapped his hand around her wrist. Her pulse pounded under his fingers. Relief washed through him and he pushed one of her curls back from her face. She wrinkled her nose, but other than that, didn’t move a muscle. He couldn’t help but smile. The driver pulled up to the front of the hotel and a doorman opened the door Keira leaned against and she nearly tumbled out of the car. He grabbed her shoulder and held her against him.

  “Just get the guitar and bag from the back,” he growled at the doorman when the guy reached for her. She could have fallen out of the car and cracked her head on the ground. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and tucked another under her legs, until she was cradled in his arms. Picking her up, he climbed out of the car and walked into the lobby of the hotel. Everyone in the lobby froze as the doorman held the door open for him. Shit! This did not look good. The studio was going to flip their shit if this ended up in the tabloids. Formerly heartbroken musician whisks passed out woman up to his hotel room for who knows what on the news at eleven. He didn’t really see what other options he had other than dropping her off in the grass outside her apartment complex and he wasn’t going to abandon her. He couldn’t do that to her.

  It was a testament to the professionalism of the hotel or maybe the shadiness of LA that no one batted an eyelash after their initial look of seeing him carry an unconscious woman through the lobby. A bellboy met him at the front desk with a key in his hand and directed him toward a bank of elevators. The ride up to the fifteen floor couldn’t have been more awkward as he shifted Keira around, readjusting his grip on her. She must have popped a mint into her mouth after the puking because she smelled just like peppermint. He hadn’t realized he sniffed her until the bellboy glanced over his shoulder at the two of them.

  Eric gently laid Keira on the couch once they got to his room. He grabbed his duffel and guitar from the bell boy, giving him a generous tip before closing the door. He dumped the bag by the door and carried the guitar into the living room. He hadn’t even known hotels had rooms with living rooms, let alone stayed in one until this tour. But they all blended together after a few months on the road.

  Keira grumbled on the couch and he strode over to her. This was not a good idea. A girl like her was a complication he didn’t need right now. No matter how much he might want it. He brushed the hair back from her face. She wasn’t green anymore, so that was an improvement. He grabbed a trashcan and put it in front of her on the floor. Taking her shoes off, he crouched down in front of her.

  “Keira,” he said, shaking her shoulders. “Keira, it’s me, Eric. You’re here in my hotel room. You got sick and I couldn’t take you home. I’m going to move you to the bed now, okay?”

  He picked her up again, her head resting in the crook of his arm and he heard it before he felt it. Her head lurched toward his chest and she smacked her forehead off his shoulder and puked all over his shirt. Standing in shock for a few seconds, he didn’t know quite what to do. She looked up at him completely disoriented before passing back out. Shit, now what did he do?

  7

  Keira’s scratchy eyelids barely moved as she struggled to open her eyes. She’d grabbed her head and squeezed it. She hadn’t braided her hair last night, so it was a nest. She couldn’t even run her fingers through it and she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. At least the cramping in her stomach from last night had gone away, but her mouth tasted horrible. Cracking her eyes, they went wide when she saw where she was. This was not her bed. What the hell?!

  Sitting up, her arms shot out to pull the sheet up to look at her legs. The cool air of the room rushed over her bare legs. She was in a t-shirt and not one of hers. Peering over the side of the bed, she didn’t see her skirt, but an empty trash can was tucked next to the bed. The nightstand next to her had a full glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen.

  A slight movement to her right caught her eye. Someone else was in bed with her, a pillow over their head. His bare back was peppered with freckles and the corded muscles bunched as he squeezed the pillow tighter around his head. Last night was a blank after leaving the bar. Every ounce of energy was focused on not puking on the street and then nothing. She shifted in the bed and the guy rolled over. His mop of auburn hair flashed as he rolled over, his bare chest on full display. Keira’s mouth went dry. What. The. Hell? It was Eric. She froze as her heart thundered in her chest. Had she slept with Eric last night? He threw his arm over his face and she froze. While she didn’t feel like she’d had sex the night before, as she squeezed her thighs together, she did have the distinct sinking sensation that accompani
ed moments of thorough embarrassment. Whatever happened the night before could not have been good. How could she not remember? Had she made a fool of herself?

  Eric stretched out beside her, tucking the pillow behind his head.

  “Morning,” he grumbled, looking absolutely delicious. His dark red hair and golden freckles made his grey eyes stand out under his full eyelashes. “How are you feeling?” he said, yawning. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she cleared her throat.

  “Okay, I guess,” she said, awkwardly, tucking the sheet in around her legs.

  “Good, wild night last night, huh?” he said, his arm tucked behind his head.

  “It was,” she squeaked. Wracking her brain, she tried to find any indication of what might have happened between them.

  “Well, it’s not every night I have to carry a woman back to my hotel room and then she pukes all over me,” he said with a sleepy smile.

  “I did?” she snapped her knees up and covered her face. Oh god, she puked on him. She should never have eaten that take out.

  “Oh yeah, all over me. That’s why I had to put you in the t-shirt.” His toothy grin had her torn between smiling back and locking herself in the bathroom. How embarrassing. And why the hell did he have to look so good in the morning. He ran his hands through his already tousled hair.

  “I was the perfect gentleman. Didn’t try to cop a feel or anything,” he said, holding his hands up. The woozy feeling rushed back thinking of those hands on her last night. How could she not remember? She needed to get out of there. Embarrassment coursed through her and she could feel her telltale scarlet blush creeping up her neck. Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she rested her head in her hands to hide.

  “I’m so sorry! I ate some really suspect take out from my fridge right before Mark’s party and I thought I was fine, but I think mixed with the liquor it spelled disaster,” she turned and he propped himself up against the headboard with an even bigger grin on his face.

  “No worries, listen, we’ve all had those nights. I’m not going to hold it against you. I’m just glad that no one stopped me carrying an unconscious woman up to my room last night because you were super out of it.” His brow furrowed for a moment. “Actually, that’s a pretty shit thing. No one did a thing when I carried you in.”

  He climbed out of bed, covers falling away and his tattooed and sculpted body filled her view. Quickly turning away before sneaking another quick glance. The happy trail of hair lead straight into his boxers and she had to hold back from fanning herself, as she imagined what would be under there for her to unwrap. Down girl! Puking all over a guy wasn’t exactly the quickest way to get him to see you as anything more than the girl who puked all over him.

  “There’s toothbrushes and stuff in the bathroom. I had them bring some up last night,” he said, stretching his arms over his head. His muscles bunched and stretched.

  “Thanks! My mouth tastes like…actually I don’t think you want that described to you. So, thank you for the toothbrush.” Grabbing the ibuprofen off the nightstand, she downed them with the water and stood from the bed. The weak, you were puking all night, feeling was there, but she figured she could make it to the bathroom with no issues. The shirt fell to her mid-thigh, which was on the short side, but she’d deal. She tugged on the hem and practically sprinted into the bathroom.

  She took care of the morning needs and grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste, slathering it on thick and brushed her teeth for what felt like ten minutes.

  Looking at herself in the mirror, Keira could easily be mistaken for death warmed over. Her eyes had dark bags under them, her pale skin seemed translucent and she had the overall look of a person who had been puking all night. And there might have been a chunk in her hair. Gross!

  “I sent your clothes down for the laundry last night. I think they should be back sometime soon. You can hang around here until then, if you want. I have a meeting to go to in a bit,” he said, buttoning a pair of jeans as he appeared in the bathroom doorway.

  “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

  “Not at all. I can get out another t-shirt and some boxers for you, if you want?” he said, leaning against the doorjamb.

  “That would be great. And I can always go home and come back to get my clothes later, if you need me out of here. I don’t want to overstay.” Talk about being memorable.

  “It’s no big deal,” he said, pulling his shirt on over his head. A small frown appeared on her lips at losing sight of all his bare-chested deliciousness. She snapped her head back up from staring at the happy trail as his head popped out of the shirt. “I have this meeting and then I’m here, doing nothing until I go back to the tour tomorrow. I actually wouldn’t mind a little company. Unless you have stuff to do.”

  It was the weekend, she had nothing going on, since classes were finished and Jen and Mark were doing all their moving stuff. The thought of her barren fridge back at her place wasn’t exactly enticing her back there. She weighed the options in her mind. Go back to her boring, depressing life or hang out with a musician she’d been obsessed with for the past year. Decisions, decisions.

  “I was going to order some breakfast. Do you want some?”

  Before she could answer, her stomach let out the almightiest of grumbles. She knew he could hear it. She wouldn’t be surprised if people two floors down heard it. He chuckled, sat on the bed and picked up the phone on the nightstand.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. I was going to suggest that we go downstairs for breakfast, but seeing how you’re a bit underdressed, I figured room service would probably be better.”

  “Great idea,” she said, suddenly feeling way underdressed now that he was fully clothed.

  “Okay, I’ll order. Any preferences?” Can you take your shirt off again?

  Needing some salt to balance out the stomach queasiness she was having right now, she knew exactly what to get. “Bacon. If there’s bacon, I don’t care what else there is. I’m not too choosy.”

  “A woman after my own heart. A heaping plate of bacon and I’ll get some other stuff.”

  She hopped in the shower, adjusting the temperature to nearly scalding and let the hot water rush over her. Standing there for a long time, she let the water wash away all the dried sweat and rejuvenate her. The shampoo and conditioner looked serviceable and as much as she didn’t want to wash her hair without her products, the thought that there might be some puke hiding out in there won out. She’d have to put it up and hope that the frizzy, curly mess that she knew it would turn into could be held at bay for a while when it was wet.

  Eric knocked on the door to let her know the food arrived and she finally turned off the water, fingers all pruney. Grabbing a big fluffy towel off the towel rack, she dried herself off and wrapped herself in a towel. Peeking out of the bathroom door, she saw a new t-shirt and a pair of boxers laid out on the bed. She threw those on and padded out to the living room. Eric sat on the arm of the couch, strumming his guitar. He glanced up at her and it was like all the air was sucked out of the room. He smiled and she leaned against the couch and gripped the leather under her hands. The intensity of his face as he played, his eye brows furrowed and fingers moving deftly across the strings made her want to freeze this moment. When else would she be able to watch a man create something so simple that turned her inside out? He didn’t even look like he was trying, just that he was in his world. And then he glanced up at her again and smiled wide.

  “What do you think?” he said, looking at her like he cared what she thought. The words caught in her throat and she just nodded like a fool.

  “It was great,” she croaked out.

  “Food’s here, I was waiting on you.” He nodded toward the table, filled with dishes covered in warming trays. Setting down his guitar, he held out his hand to her to walk her to the table. Why did he have to be so hot and sweet at the same time.

  She tried not to let his consideration get to her. She wasn’t going to freak
out. Wasn’t going to look into this as more than it was. He was being nice. Incredibly nice, but she wasn’t going to turn this into something it wasn’t. He was friends with Mark, so was she. Making sure she didn’t end up passed out on the streets last night had been something any friend would do. And she was sure he had women throwing themselves at him all the time. With the crapfest her life was right now, she wasn’t attracting anyone.

  “I didn’t know what you liked other than bacon, so I ordered a bit of everything.”

  “Thanks, you really didn’t have to.”

  “No big deal, I’m testing the range of this recording label money when it comes to room service.” He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. She blushed and sat, scooting her chair forward.

  “I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Thanks for this Eric,” she said, folding a napkin across her lap.

  He uncovered plates and stacked the lids. There were plates of fruit, waffles, pancakes, a towering pile of bacon, eggs, orange juice, cranberry juice, apple juice. When they had to start putting the lids on the other chairs because there was no room for them on the table, Eric piped up. Keira laughed as all the tray toppers started sliding off the chair and crashing to the floor.

  “Okay, maybe I overdid it a little with the ordering,” he said, laughing.

  “A little?” she said, with her fingers less than an inch apart and her eyebrow raised.

  “More than a little, but damn all this looks good.”

  “It sure does,” she said, diving into the plate of bacon. The crispy bacon crunched in her mouth, not like the usual soggy stringy hotel bacon. The salty goodness filled her mouth as she shoveled in piece after piece. Filling a glass with cranberry juice, she grabbed a pancake off the stack and added a little syrup, making sure to get some on her bacon. She glanced up and saw him trying to suppress a laugh. Not usually this gluttonous with shoveling food into her mouth, that late night puking had her in salty sweet mode.