Chronicles of a Serial Dater - Book 7: A New Adult Romantic Comedy by Adele Huxley, Savan Robbins Page B

waggling a finger in his face.
    Anette dug her fingers into my shoulders as she physically pushed me away from him. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” she said sweetly. But in my ear, she was harsh and abrasive. “You get your tight little white ass out that door right now or so help me…”
    “Yeah, yeah,” I complained. A few feet away, I realized I hadn’t said goodbye to Clint yet. “I hope you have a good evening. Thank you for coming,” I said with a sarcastic wave over my shoulder.
    Anette poured me into the backseat of a cab and gave the driver our address. For whatever reason, this freaked me out and I bolted straight up.
    “You can’t leave! He’ll rape me!”
    The driver jumped so high the car rocked on its shocks. “What the fuck? I’m not gonna rape… naw, get out. I ain’t gonna…”
    With a big groan, Anette climbed in behind me. “I’ll go with you, you little brat. You’re well past brat,” she muttered. “You’re a full-fledged drunken psycho now.”
    I calmed down and curled up in her lap. She stroked my hair and said nasty things in a nice, sing-songy voice. “If you puke on me, I’m gonna shave your hair off. Everyone is nice to you, but we all talk shit behind your back. If this doesn’t make up for our fight, I’ll just have to bang Zach to make things even.”
    The cab stopped. Voices spoke around me. I was lifted from the back and helped upstairs. It wasn’t until someone was feeling along my side for pockets that I realized Anette was gone and Zach was the one holding me up.
    “Where are your damn keys?”
    I blinked up at him. “In my purse. Like a normal person. This dress doesn’t have pockets, obviously.” I tried to do a little twirl but nearly fell over. He only caught me at the very last second.
    Zach was absolutely amazing. He helped me inside, got me changed into my PJs, and put me to bed. As he set a trashcan, glass of water, and some juice by my head, I reached out for him.
    “Thank you.”
    “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he laughed. “You’re still my friend.”
    My eyes were closed and I was half asleep, so it’s a miracle I remember saying any of this at all. “You’re my friend, too. Mr. Magic Tongue,” I giggled.
    “Okay, weirdo. Call me if you need me.” He clicked off the lights, all but a small one in the corner of the room.
    After a heartbeat, I called out. “Zach?”
    “Yeah?”
    “I was afraid.”
    “What? Tonight? You’re home safe now, no taxi driver will…”
    “No. Of us. Of you. I’m afraid I’d fall in love with you.”
    Zach didn’t reply but I heard him pause and sigh. The floor creaked as he walked back to the side of the bed and kissed me softly on the forehead. I vaguely heard the door click shut before I passed out completely.
    Hurricane Talia had finished destroying Manhattan. For now…
     

My hangover was less physical and more emotional. Sure, my skull felt like it was about to crack open, I couldn’t turn my head without wanting to gag, and my mouth tasted like an ashtray. But that wasn’t causing me the real pain. What hurt most was the blurry memory of Clint’s face as I made a complete asshole of myself. I literally cringed when I got glimpses of our conversation from the night before, things I said, ways I’d touched him.
    I tried to tell myself it wasn’t nearly as bad as I was remembering. I didn’t want to move from my bed, so I called out to Anette. No answer. I yelled again and heard Pluto trot to my closed door.
    I finger-walked my way across the crap on my side table to find my phone. I squinted into the bright screen to send her a text, but the moment I hit send, I remembered her telling Zach she would stay at Amie’s. Shit. And then I remembered Zach and saying something about falling in love with him. Double shit.
    And then I remembered Clint again. No amount of profanity could cover that foggy memory.
    After chugging the glass of water Zach had left for me, I somehow dragged