Many thanks to Rileyworks for his edits...
~Alkymist
******
Amber awoke, her eyes gradually blinking open. Her mouth felt dry and gummy; a wrinkle from the pillow had left a painful crease in her cheek. She was hot, and her head felt foggy and sluggish as she struggled to make sense of her disorientation. She felt out of sync, like a dubbed movie where the words don't quite match the lips of the actors. As her consciousness slowly came online, she pushed herself upright and pulled her brown hair out of her eyes. At that point, she abruptly realized she was laying on an unrecognized bed. Further, she was only wearing her underwear.
She tried to recall where she was and why she was practically nude, but her normally quick mind felt like it was trudging through mud. She didn't have a boyfriend and definitely wasn't the type for a one-night stand. Plus, as she tried to focus on the previous evening, she found a pounding headache, but nothing else--it was a complete blank. The last memory she could really grasp was snuggling up on the couch with a good book and talking to Kat on the phone.
This was most definitely not her couch, and there was no book in sight--panic seized her heart in an icy grip.
What the fuck happened to me?
Her eyes swiftly scanned around the room trying to gather her bearings, but everything was blurry.
My glasses! Where are my glasses?
She blearily fumbled around and found them on a small nightstand next to an empty wine glass, nearly knocking it over in her haste. Reflexively, she caught it, a muted
ting
cutting through the silence as her ring tapped the crystal. She set it upright and picked up the slim frames with more care.
As she slipped the lenses on, she could make out that she was lying in a tastefully decorated room, her legs tangled in the sheets that had been pushed to the foot of the mattress. A pair of french doors looked out on some kind of stone patio, but it was too dark to see clearly. A distant treeline was barely visible, black shadows cutting an erratic line across a deep blue-grey, hinting that morning was just around the corner.
Or night has just begun
, she thought.
The realization sent a chill down her spine and adrenaline spiked throughout her body like black tendrils. She bolted upright, her body in full-blown alarm mode.
Oh my God! Where am I? What happened to me? And what the hell happened to my clothes!
While she was starting to make sense of what was physically around her, her thoughts were still careening randomly.
"Oh, you're up!" The owner of the voice had just walked in a door opposite the french door. Amber whipped around, her legs tangling even more in the sheets. A young man stood there in a pair of pajama bottoms, his brown hair tousled.
Spencer? Why is he...? Wait...no! Nonononono!
Her brow furrowed. "What happened? What did you do?" Amber growled at him, her normally velvety voice distorted by her panic.
"I... Sorry?" He looked at her, his forehead creasing over his brown eyes.
She finally untangled her feet and stood up. "I'll bet you are. What happened to me? Where are my clothes?" It was only after making the demand that she realized she was facing him bare-chested. She suddenly covered her breasts with her arms. "Stop staring at me!"
With a look of annoyance, he stepped back into the doorway and turned his back to her. "I'm not... You're upset."
"Upset? Of course, I'm upset! I'm fucking pissed." Anger coursed through her. She spotted her skirt laying at the foot of the bed and grabbed it, pulling it on quickly. "I go home to read... wake up nude in your room in the middle of the night... God only knows what happened, and... and... aaaahhh, where the hell is my bra?" she yelled, her voice rising in pitch as her eyes darted around.
He glanced back over his shoulder but quickly turned back when she shot him a dirty look. "I think it's on the floor on the other side of the bed." She maneuvered around the bed, picked up the undergarment, and began putting it on. "This is not the morning I was looking forward to," he muttered to himself.
"Oh, I'm sure it isn't," she said bitterly. "I can't believe you did this to me." She found her top near where the bra had been stashed and tugged it over her head, her voice muffled briefly as she spat out a machine gun staccato of words. "I don't know what you gave me, but there's going to be hell to pay!" As long as she was angry, it held the fear at bay.
She pushed past him down the hallway and found herself in a small kitchenette attached to a larger living area. Her purse lay on the granite counter; she picked it up looking for her phone. It wasn't there. "Where's my phone? Give it back!"
"Gave you? You drank some wine." He had followed her into the kitchenette. He sounded frustrated. "As for your phone, I don't know. You had it last night. Do you need me to--"
"Oh, of course," she cut him off, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "One glass of wine equals waking up with no clothes on and a head filled with lead. Makes total sense." She was annoyed that he had followed her and moved away from him, her eyes casting about looking for her phone. She spotted it on an end table near a sofa with a blanket partially tossed over it. She picked it up and jammed her finger against the button to power it on.
Probably going to be dead.
The screen lit up: 24%. It also informed her that it was a little after 5:30 in the morning.
Okay, so it's not dead. And not the beginning of the night.
Her heart started calming down a bit.
She pulled up Katelyn's number and called it, all the while keeping her eye on Spencer. He just stood there watching her, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression unreadable. A groggy voice answered. "Hey, girlfriend. How was last night? Wait, what time is it? You okay?"
"No, I am not okay," Amber spat out. "I'm at Spencer's. Can you give me a ride home? Do you know where he lives?"
Amber heard rustling as Katelyn moved the phone around. "Umm, yeah?" She sounded a bit confused or out of sorts.
Probably because I'm calling her so early out of the blue.
"I'll be there soon as I can. Are you going to be okay until then?"
Amber glanced over at Spencer. He was walking over to a closet by the front door. He didn't seem threatening.
But isn't that how his type worked? Take advantage and then act like nothing's wrong. Deny everything.
"I... I think so. But hurry, okay?"
"Sure thing. I'm heading out the door as soon as I grab my shoes. You call me if you need anything while I'm on my way."