Chapter 8

I feel something vibrating beside me nonstop and it's making my head is pound in my skull at an alarming rate.

I blindly fling my arm across my bed trying to find the cause of the disturbance. My hand clamps around my phone and I answer it without checking the caller ID because I can't open my eyes just yet.

"Hello?"

"Thank god, Ari what the hell happened and where are you?" I hear Ava snap, worry and frustration in her tone.

"What are you talking about?"

She lets an irritated groan escape her lips. "I'm talking about how you just disappeared last night, I was so worried. What happened and where are you?"

Did I disappear last night? Wait, what happened last night?

I can't remember much but as I start to wake up I get flashes from the previous night. I remember drinking a lot and the colour blue. That's not a lot to go on.

My eyes flutter open after my internal confusion but what I see makes me pale. I'm not in my room. I don't know where I am.

"Ava I'm going to have to call you back."

"No. Don't y–" she starts but I hang up.

Please tell me I didn't have sex last night, for the love of god, please. I look down to my attire and thank heavens I'm still wearing my dress from last night.

Now onto my dilemma where the hell am I? My eyes scan the room, it's quite nice. The bed is king sized with floral patterned sheets; the walls are painted a cream colour; the carpet is lush and beige; there are a few stunning art pieces on the walls and there's even a little sitting area accompanied by a television. All in all, you can tell the room is expensive but at the same time it is of a simplistic nature.

The door begins to creak open and my head immediately snaps to it, however, the noise grates in my ears, amplifying my already-painful-headache. Fan-fucking-tactic.

My eyes zone in on the person who walks over the threshold and into the room. It takes me a few moments before I can place his face but when I do my heart begins to race and the intensity of my headache increases once again.

It's none other than Wyatt-fucking-King. Oh, hell no.

I'm glad even drunk me wasn't dumb enough to sleep with him but I'm praying that I didn't do or say anything stupid, knowing me I probably did.

"Where am I?" I voice the first of many questions forming in my mind.

He quirks an eyebrow at me. "No greeting? Just where am I."

I give him a deadpan glare and he puts his hands up in mock surrender. "Chill, green eyes, I was only teasing."

A small smile starts to form on my lips at his attempt at lifting the atmosphere but I'm quick to push it away. If Wyatt notices this he doesn't show it. "I'm going to ask you again, where am I?" I try to make my tone firm but it comes out shaky, perfect. In my defence, he's very intimidating in the way he carries himself and just in general.

"Where do you think you are?" he replies coyly. What sort of a reply is that?!

"I don't know, why do you think I'm asking," I say in a 'duh' tone.

When he doesn't respond I shoot him a glare, demanding an answer with my eyes.

"So green eyes is feisty," he smirks. Since I don't answer he sighs. "If you must know you're at my house... You're no fun," he mutters to himself, thinking I can't hear him but I can, however, I pay his words no attention.

"Care to elaborate?"

"What's with all the questions? I saved you last night so you should be grateful, not rude and demanding."

Saved me? What the hell happened yesterday? I sigh, god this is going to be embarrassing to say but if I don't tell him I won't get answers. "Okay, so I'm blanking on what happened yesterday. Care to explain?"

He chuckles to himself, shaking his head. "Figured as much, you did drink a crap ton. Speaking of which why did you drink so much? I haven't seen anyone get that hammered in a long time and they did it for a reason, I'm assuming you did too."

That's a question I don't want to answer. I don't need pity. I hate it and if I tell him he's either going to pity me or think I'm a stupid teenage girl who needs to get over herself, neither seem like appealing options. "That's a bit personal don't you think?"

He regards me silently for a few moments, just staring at me, looking for something. When he finds it he sighs and scratches the back of his neck.

"I get it. You probably don't want to talk to a total stranger about your problems but sometimes that's actually the best thing to do. I can't prejudge you because I don't know what you're like or what your situation is. Sometimes just having someone to talk to can really help and if that's what you want I'm here to listen." His words are so sincere, I can't detect a single bit of sarcasm in them. This is nothing like how I presumed Wyatt to be, I probably shouldn't prejudge people. He actually wants to help me, he can tell something is wrong. Most people can't because I'm very good at hiding my emotions but he can.

"Thanks for the offer and all but I'm fine, really," I say, lying through my teeth. I'm anything but fine.

You probably think it's stupid that I'm this hurt over a guy but this guy meant more to me than words can even begin to explain. Imagine that the person that you loved with all your heart and soul suddenly didn't care about you anymore. The person who owned your heart tore it in half and then proceeded to shred it into pieces in front of your very eyes. That's but a fraction of how I feel.

Heartbreak isn't an easy thing to describe, the best way I can describe it is a numb feeling. A feeling of hopelessness, the worry that you'll never be the same. It's a constant ache in your soul, a wound that will never heal.

So, yes, I'm this torn up over James because he was someone I loved with my whole being. I don't expect anyone to fully understand the extent of the pain I'm feeling. I don't want pity from anyone; I just want them to understand and leave the subject to rest, that's all. Alas, no one will and I accept that so it's better if I avoid the subject altogether.

The strange thing is it doesn't look like he believes me. It's almost like he can tell that I'm hiding something. No one has ever figured that out before. There have never been many people in my life that can tell when I'm lying or hiding something. I even manage to deceive my own mother most of the time but this boy, someone I hardly know, can tell. How does that work? A stranger can figure things out that some of the people closest to me can't. That says something, even the ones who we think know us so well don't know us anywhere near enough.

Even though it's obvious he doesn't believe me, he lets the matter drop, sensing my discomfort in engaging with him about it.

"To answer your question, last night you got ridiculously drunk. You walked into me and claimed it was my fault and later on I found you in the kitchen drinking even more. When I took the drink off of you, you got mad at me. You got in my personal space to have a go at me and midway through your rant you passed out but I caught you before you could fall. I didn't want to just leave you at a party because I am a decent human being, despite what people think," he mutters the last bit, sounding rather bitter.

"The only problem was I didn't know where you lived so I had to bring you here. I don't know about anything else you did whilst you were there but it was probably quite embarrassing or entertaining, whatever it was," he chuckles to himself at the end, as if he knows something that I don't.

That bastard, he's hiding something I just know it. However, I don't pursue the topic because I already know I won't get any answers.

"Alright. Thanks for helping me, I guess," I start. "Wait what time is it?"

"About eleven, why?"

"Shit school," I say in a worried tone. I jump out of the comfy bed hastily and brush off my dress to remove some of the wrinkles. I notice my shoes by the bed so I slip them on and snatch my phone from the covers. I speed to the door but Wyatt stands there, blocking my path, looking amused for some reason.

"Hold it there green eyes. First, slow down, you're going to crash into something, I know first hand how clumsy you are," he smirks. Twat. "Second you haven't eaten yet and I'm not letting you leave without having breakfast."

"But I'm not hungry," I say in protest. Wyatt gives me a look, basically saying he doesn't believe me. I stand there, arms crossed across my chest in defiance. Guess what happens at that exact moment, my stomach growls. Yep, just my luck.

Wyatt smirks for the who-knows-what-number time. "Looks like your stomach agrees with me."

I sigh in defeat, about to follow him to the kitchen but he stops me. "Stay here," he says before walking off.

I wait there for a few minutes just staring into space. He comes back holding some clothes as well as a bottle of water and some aspirin. "Here, take this, you'll probably need it."

I take it eagerly and swallow with some water. Hopefully, the effects will kick in soon, hangovers suck.

"Put these on, they're my sisters. She's a bit younger than you but you're small so it should be fine."

"Sorry but not all of us can be six foot something giants."

He laughs a genuine laugh. When he does his eyes light up, making the already gorgeous colour even more striking. Shit, I never thought that, snap out of it Ari.

"Whatever, how tall are you anyway? Five foot?"

"Five two and a half actually."

"Yep, can't forget that half," he says mockingly.

"Shut up," I say whilst glaring.

"Chill green eyes, it's cute that you're small." I blush a little at that — okay a lot. Fuck. He can totally see that I'm blushing. He grins teasingly at me but doesn't comment on my ever reddening cheeks, thank god. "Anyway, get changed and come down to the kitchen once you're ready." With that, he walks away.

Once I'm changed I exit the guest room, then it dawns on me, I have absolutely no clue where the kitchen is and it doesn't help that this house is like a mansion. I'm not even kidding, it's massive.

I start to walk around aimlessly, hoping to find my way around. After ten minutes I finally find the stairs–don't judge me, it's a huge house.

Once I'm downstairs the hunt for the kitchen continues. Left. Left. Straight ahead. Left. I'm now in a games room. Fuck. I'm never going to find my way around.

I'm turning to walk away but a voice stops me. "Hey, who are you?" I quickly turn around to be met with the grey eyes of a guy who looks to be in his early twenties. Can I just say he's very good looking, not as much so as Wyatt but still hot. Ari, shut up and get a grip. "Are you going to answer or are you just going to stand there gawking?" The boy asks cockily and I blush.

I was not gawking but I don't say this as I'm uncomfortable snapping at a complete stranger. "Oh, sorry," I mumble. "The name's Aurora but everyone calls me Ari," I say with a little more confidence.

"Nice to meet you, Ari, I'm Nathaniel but you can call me Nathan or the man of your dreams. Now if you don't mind me asking what's a beautiful girl like you doing in my house?"

My cheeks redden further at his compliment but I brush it off and reply. "Oh right, I was looking for the kitchen but I got lost."

He chuckles at that. "That doesn't answer my question as to why you're here in the first place but I'll let it slide. Which kitchen are you looking for?"

"You have more than one?" I ask, taken aback. Who needs more than one kitchen? My mum's a freaking famous chef and even we don't have more than one.

He nods and waits for me to tell him. "I'm not sure which one, which one do you use the most?"

"Ah, that would be the main kitchen. Four doors down to your right. You can't miss it, it's all open plan."

I nod, mumbling a thank you before walking away.

Is he Wyatt's brother? They do share a few features. But their eyes and hair are different, while Nathan has grey eyes and light brown hair, Wyatt has his gorgeous blue ones and chocolate brown hair.

They must be siblings. Why else would they both be so attractive, that kind of thing has to be genetic. Plus they both have that sort of aura about them, I can't explain it but I just get this vibe off of them.

I finally find the kitchen and no surprise it's gigantic, like the rest of the house. I walk over to the island and sit down on one of the bar stools. The smell of pancakes hits my nose and I grin involuntarily.

So Mr bad boy can cook, who would have thought.

He turns to face me, placing a plate of pancakes in front of me before sitting down himself with his own serving, this should be an interesting breakfast.