Mixed Signals by MIA HEINTZELMAN

Author:MIA HEINTZELMAN [Heintzelman, Mia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MIA HEINTZELMAN

Chapter 20

Julie’s eyes flitted about the room as a breeze rattled the window, not that she had been able to sleep much once she’d awakened in the strange bed. She lay there on the edge of the right side of the bed watching Nico sleep, wondering about the final events of the night—how she’d ended up in his bed, wearing his shirt.

With the slivers of light from the blinds, she studied him in the darkness until daylight danced on his cheekbones. The way his lashes rested on his face and his hair sort of splayed on the pillows in bunches of small springs, he could’ve been Julie’s personal Calvin Klein ad. A beautiful mouth-breather who gifted her with glimpses of his dimples between snoring riffs.

He looked peaceful, unlike Julie, who feared her slightest movement would rouse him. Everything was perfect with him asleep. Her fuck-ups were limited then. Or, at least he wouldn’t be conscious to witness yet another of the million and one she had in her arsenal.

She just had to raise the ante to five skulls, didn’t she?

A monster headache pounded at her temples, payback for being a showoff. Surely a harbinger of an oncoming hangover, she stifled a groan. This was exactly what she deserved for consuming anything—liquid or solid—with a name like Zombie.

She combed through the staggered images of the night before. Mostly alcohol and loud singing and…kissing.

That kiss.

A soft, tender kiss. The kind that grew slowly in intensity while invisible fireworks went off in the distance. Shallow breathing. Nothing but sugar-spiced goodness. That is, until the unthinkable.

Julie cringed at the memory and gagged as the instant replay reeled in the back of her mind. She had burped. And not like a small ladylike breath slipping between smiling lips. No, that would have been far too much to ask. So typical; if she was going to screw up, she did it royally, and put some extra stank on it. No dainty shielded hiccup. She had unleashed a hearty rancid belch that came from deep down.

And to make matters worse—though at the time she’d thought it impossible—she’d managed to outdo herself. Because breathing fire wasn’t bad enough, she had hurled on the man. Literally, upchucked on his Chucks.

On a mortification meter, she was off the charts. Julie grimaced at the thought of Nico waking up to endure any further antics from her. She scooted over the edge and slid out of the sheets onto the floor. Quietly, she tiptoed around his room, searching for her clothes and shoes.

Beneath the bed, she found her black pumps, wiped clean and neatly paired next to her purse and his slippers. And while her clothes were nowhere to be found, a whole closet full of his peeked out at her in the morning light. She glanced over her shoulder at Nico and slipped into another one of his shirts and a pair of his drawstring sweatpants, and rolled the waistband a third time to keep them from falling down.

She checked the clock on his nightstand.

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