Chapter 20

"Oh, God," groaned Jason. The sun seemed be burning through his skin and blinding him. In defense, he turned over and fell smack dab into the carpet. "Oh, God," he groaned again, as a full marching band stampeded across his head. His mouth was so obscenely dry and whatever spit he had left tasted like bile. Please, God, kill him now and let there be coffee.

"About time you woke up," a quiet voice said.

"Oh, God," cried Jason weakly, while holding his head, "Please, not so loud, I'm begging you."

"Damn, Jase. You really did freaking soak up the bar."

"Shawn, please, gimme a break. I'm dying here," he managed to say as softly as he could, through his throbbing headache. His eyes were still glued shut, protecting themselves from the searing sunlight.

"Come on," sighed his buddy. Shawn walked over and helped his painfully hungover friend. "Need to puke?"

"Naw, that'd be too freaking easy," he mumbled, somewhat steadier on his feet. One eye cracked open, scouting, then the next cautiously opened, as well. Miracle of miracles. He had vision. Now all he needed was to get his sorry ass to the toilet and relieve himself. "Where the hell are we?"

"Phil's joint. Guesthouse. Whew." Shawn waved the air about his nose. The alcohol was coming out of Jase's pores. "I think it's time to cut back, dude."

"You're telling me," he replied, as he gingerly took the initial steps toward the washroom. After a long blissful piss, he used the provided toothbrush and paste and scrubbed his mouth. The fresh minty taste was worlds better than the taste of partially digested Jack Daniels. He took a good look at himself in the mirror and groaned again. Damn, he looked like shit. Wild parties and getting wasted beyond recognition were becoming overrated. This time he didn't even get freaking laid.

He managed a weary shrug and headed back to the living room, when Shawn promptly turned him around, after shoving a bundle of fresh clothes in his arms. Sighing, he headed back to the bathroom for a nice hot shower. After he toweled off, he was starting to feel human again. The wonders of recovery, when one was young and fit. His headache was better, but his eyes were still bloodshot and dry. A couple of aspirin and jolt of coffee should fix the rest of that.

He pulled on the change of clothes and reemerged a more tolerable sight and smell. He stumbled back to the living room to find Shawn folding up his blanket and sheets on the other couch. Jason shrugged and went to his makeshift bed and began to fold his linens, as well.

"So, where's Belle, man?" asked Jason, "I figure you'd be sharing the other room with her."

"She's in there with Mimi," Shawn answered, slanting him a look to gauge his buddy's reaction.

"She's here, too?" He shrugged and finished folding up his blanket. "Surprised she didn't leave with that skinny drama dude."

"Uh, naw…" Shawn's eyebrows rose in confusion. "She was with you, remember?"

Jason shot him a fuck-you look, which said that the joke wasn't particularly funny.

"Jase, don't act like nothing happened between you two, because-"

"Look, Shawn," interjected Jason, who was just plain fed up with everyone interrogating him about him and Mimi, "I said my piece. She told me that she ain't interested. End of story, ok?"

"Jase, dude, please tell you remember what happened between you and her last night." Shawn's mouth dropped open like a guppy at the notion.

"Yeah, I remember. I bumped into Miss Marilyn Monroe, and she blew me off and strutted off with that drama dude… Brad something or whatever. Whatever, man. I'm not going to waste anymore time on her freaking games. Now, can we just drop it?"

"Jase, you gotta know something-"

Someone wailed.

"What the hell was that?" Jason muttered, his eyes following the grieving sound, originating from the other room.

"Oh, Mimi," cried Belle along with her friend, "It'll be alright."

Mimi wept and wept. "Oh my God. How could this happen? Oh my God. How could this happen?!"

Belle drew her arms around her distraught friend. "It'll be alright, Mimi."

"Alright?" Mimi grew more hysterical with each passing second. "How can this be alright? I had s-s-s-I slept with a guy," she sobbed uncontrollably, "For the first time in my life and I can't even remember it!"

Tears ran down Belle's cheeks in sympathy. She really didn't know what to say.

"And of all people, I slept with Jason? W-Who's probably screwed so many girls that I was just another easy lay for him."

"Please, don't say that, Mimi. You don't know that." Belle smoothed her friend's back.

"No, I don't," she choked. The tears overflowed again. "I don't know anything, because I can't remember last night. I can't remember the first time I ever made love with someone."

"It's not your fault. You drank the same punch that Chloe did. The doctor figured that it was probably a drug or something."

"Making me easy prey for good ole Jason," cried Mimi, "Oh, God, Belle. What am I going to do?"

"What the hell was that?" repeated Jason, moving toward the other room now.

"Whoa whoa, Jase." Shawn quickly intersected and directed him back to the couch. He ran his hands through his hair and wondered how he was going to break it to Jason.

"Hey, that sounds like crying," said Jason, concerned now. He tried to stand back up to investigate, but Shawn blocked his path for some bizarre reason. "Come on, dude."

"I gotta tell you something, Jase. Just sit down for a minute, ok?"

Jason noticed his friend's very serious expression and hesitated, before he settled back onto the sofa. His eyes were still trained on the closed bedroom door. "So? What's up?"

Shawn rubbed a nervous hand over his face. His mouth opened to explain, but nothing came out. Then, his hands rose in gesture, but they fell back down, defeated. There was no other way around it but head-on. "Belle and I found you with Mimi last night."

"What?" Jason looked at him confused. "What do you mean?" But the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

"We found you and Mimi almost passed out on the floor, buck naked."

"What?" Jason's eyes widened to an alarming degree. "You're not saying that me and Mimi… that Mimi and I… oh hell no."

"Jase, me and Belle had to… separate the two of you and get your clothes back on…" Shawn continued, tugging at his tight collar, as his friend groaned in dismay and buried his face in his hands, "You were pretty much gone, and Mimi was totally passed out."

"Naw, naw, man. There's no way," Jason scrambled to standing and paced, "There's no way I'd sleep with Mimi and not remember…" Then, an image flashed in his mind… of her neck arching upward, her long silky hair raining down her back, her eyes closed, and her mouth open on a moan. "Oh God." He collapsed on a nearby chair, his muscles suddenly weak.

Chloe's eyes flickered open. She stared out the wide panoramic window and saw a bold blue jay twitter from branch to branch on a budding cherry blossom tree. She blinked, as consciousness sunk in, and realized she hadn't woken in her own room. She looked at the marble fireplace and the rich oil painting, which hung above the mantle. Definitely, she was not at Mimi's. Thus, ever so cautiously and hopefully, she turned over and there snoring lightly beside her was Philip. He slept on his back, with a hand tucked behind his head. For some reason, he looked so tired. Faint dark circles had formed under his eyes and his brows furrowed in sleep. Without thinking, she reached out to try and smooth them. He didn't stir, so exhausted was he.

While she watched him sleep, she wondered how they'd ended up here. That's right, she remembered. She'd decided to come to the guesthouse, because he'd seem troubled about something at the party. The party. Then, she looked down and saw her pretty pink nightgown. Now, when'd she change into this? This certainly didn't belong to her. She took the fabric between her fingers and sighed at the fine-combed cotton. Philip must've given it to her. She must've have fallen asleep in the car again. Which meant she'd have a little talk with her adorable boyfriend about how she'd exchanged her costume for this very comfy nightgown. She grinned. It was probably from Victoria's Secret.

Feeling perfectly comfortable where she was, she reached out to stroke his sun-streaked hair. As if sensing her closeness, his cheek leaned into her palm. She sighed. Maybe it was just this easy. This natural. If she let it be. She scooted closer, hoping to cuddle against him, when she realized that she had a separate blanket from Philip's. Now, she was misty-eyed. He was perfect. Why had she had any doubt?

So, following her heart, she moved under his blanket, until she could lay right next to him. Her fingers glided feather-soft across his chiseled features. Then, she rained kisses from his forehead to his eyes to his nose, then his mouth. Slowly, his lips responded and opened, so that his tongue danced with hers. In sleep, his hands moved to pull her closer to him.

Feeling her body heat, her eager fingers undid the buttons of his sleep-shirt and tugged the flannel aside. Her hands moved in exploratory circles over his smooth, defined chest. His mouth grew more urgent with her touch, as his heart raced beneath her palm. Along her shapely silhouette his hands traveled and grasped her hips to mold her intimately against him. Her insides began to twist and writhe. She took his hand and moved it to cover her breast. His breath seemed to stop then quicken, as he rolled on top of her, his hands streaking to possess. On the edge of consciousness but in the depths of passion, his mouth moved ravenously from her mouth down her neck to her breasts.

She arched, moaning long and deep. "Philip," she gasped.

His deep blue eyes flickered open, clouded by desire. Then, they blinked, as if trying to clear the haze. "Chloe?"

She brought his face back to hers to give him a treacherously breathtaking kiss.

He weakened, but then pulled away. "Chloe, we can't."

She smiled, "I love you, Philip. And I'm not afraid anymore."

His eyes fluttered again in rapidly depleting willpower. "It's the drug, Chloe. It's not really you talking." He seemed to say it more for his own benefit than hers. He had to avert his eyes. She looked so incredible. Here. In his arms. In his bed.

She laughed in confusion. "Philip, what are you talking about?"

He rolled away, chest heaving from the rushing blood, and stared blindly at the stucco ceiling. He needed to concentrate on something neutral. God, how much torture could a guy take?

"Philip," she repeated, rolling on her side, so she could look at him. "What are you talking about? What drug?"

He gulped, as he looked up at her, the sexy miles of hair falling down from the loose braid. "The stuff that someone slipped in that punch. You're still high on it. That's why you're not afraid anymore."

Her forehead wrinkled. "What? What punch?"

Memory loss. That's what the doctor had said. Damn it, maybe he should call Dr. Stevenson…

"Philip, you're scaring me. Please, stop kidding around."

He looked back up at her again, and felt his muscles twitch and harden further. He closed his eyes. "You drank some spiked punch last night, got sick, and passed out. We were really worried about you, so I had my dad's doctor take a look at you. He said it was probably a roofie or something. After you threw up, I woke you up throughout the night to make you drink enough water to get rid of the rest of the stuff."

"What?" her voice growing nervous now. She took a good look at his face. He wasn't kidding. "But that's impossible. I don't remember any of that."

"The doctor said that'd probably happen." His eyes opened to find her sitting back against the headboard, stunned. "You were with me the whole time, so you were safe."

"You're right," she said softly, "I only remember you hurting your hand… and then looking for the others. Passed that I can't remember a thing."

"Chloe," he began, waiting for her to meet his eyes, "You're ok. I was with you the whole time. Nothing happened."

She remained silent for a while, mulling over the events and information in her mind. Then, she slid back down to the bed and hugged him. "You took care of me."

His arms tightened around her. "That's what I'm here for."

She pulled back a bit to kiss him again, this time with tenderness. Then, her eyes looked straight into his. "Philip, it was me talking before. I love you and I'm not afraid anymore."