I looked past Kale’s body to the clock on the dressing table next to the bed and saw it was after five in the morning. I listened out for music but couldn’t hear it any more. I could hear distant laughter and voices, though, which told me the party was still going strong.
I didn’t like how dark the room was now that I was awake, so I turned on the lamp on the bedside table next to me and relaxed back into the pillow I was lying on. I closed my eyes on a sigh but snapped them back open when I heard groaning next to me.
“My head is killing me,” Kale grumbled, and lifted his hands to his face, covering it completely.
I snorted. “That’s what you get for downing Jack.”
Kale’s entire body tensed when I spoke, and he slowly lowered his hands from his face and turned to look at me.
“Good morning,” I said, beaming.
“Lane?” Kale whispered, then rubbed his eyes and repeatedly blinked them.
He choked on air when he glanced down to my naked breasts, then widened his eyes. Lifting up the bed sheets that covered him, he looked down at his naked body.
“Oh, Jesus,” he panicked. “Oh, Christ.”
I frowned at him. “What’s wrong?”
Kale snapped his gaze to me. “What’s wrong? Are you fucking serious?”
I was taken aback by his sudden anger. “I don’t understand why you’re so mad,” I replied, my temper rising to match his. “You were fine a few hours ago!”
He shook his head in dismay. “I was drunk a few hours ago, Lane.”
Sickness attacked my stomach, and hurt gripped my heart.
“Wh-What are you saying?” I whispered, not wanting to hear the answer to my question.
Kale looked at me once more and frowned deeply. “I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.”
Forgive him?
“For what?” I asked, my eyes welling up with tears.
He grunted. “You know what for . . . We had sex, Lane.”
I was instantly gutted when I saw the regret on his face. “You . . . you’re sorry we had sex?” I asked, trying my hardest not to allow my voice to crack.
He placed his head in his hands. “Of course I am. You’re my best friend, you’re only seventeen and I don’t even remember sleeping with you. Oh, fuck, what have I done? Did I hurt you? Did I use a condom?”
I couldn’t speak.
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t think.
“Lane,” Kale breathed, and turned to me, the bed sheets still covering his lower body. “Please, forgive me. I’m begging you. I’m so sorry if I hurt you.”
“You didn’t have a condom, but you promised you would pull out, and you did.” I looked at him and blinked. “You didn’t hurt me either.”
He just fucking destroyed me.
Kale closed his eyes. “I’m such a fucking prick.”
Yes. Yes, he was.
“Do you remember anything?” I asked after a lengthy silence.
He was looking at me, but turned away from me when I asked my question, and said, “No.”
How on earth was that possible?
“Kale, you weren’t that drunk,” I stated. “You were tipsy at most.”
He moved away when I reached for him, and it really hurt my feelings. “I don’t know what to tell you, Lane. I was drunk. I’m just not a messy drunk, I guess, but that doesn’t mean I remember shit.”
Did he have to word it like that?
I swallowed. “You weren’t even slurring, though—”
“I don’t remember it, okay?” he bellowed.
I wasn’t expecting him to shout at me, and it caused me to almost jump out of my skin.
“I’m sorry,” he said when he saw that he’d scared me. “I’m so sorry about all of this. It’s all my fault.”
I was so confused.
“You told me you liked me,” I whispered.
“If I said that, then I wasn’t lying. I do like you – I swear I do. You’re fucking gorgeous, but it’s been embedded in me to look out for you because you are like a sister to me, and for a long time you have been, Lane.”
He truly saw me as his sister?
Oh, my God.
I felt sick.
“It’s okay,” I breathed, forcing back the bile that wanted to rise up my throat. “We’ll just forget about it. It’s not a big deal.”
It was a big deal; it was a huge fucking deal.
“Lane.”
I refused to look at him; the tears that were in my eyes would fall, otherwise.
“No, Kale, I swear it’s fine,” I said, and fumbled with the sheets to cover my body. “You’re right – this was a mistake.”
It almost killed me to say the biggest lie of my life.
“I’m so sorry if I’ve hurt you,” he said, clearly in distress. “I hate myself for upsetting you.”