Sick Like Me (Sick Like #1)

Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

I woke with a pounding headache and a churning feeling in my stomach, finding myself face down into the mountain of pillows on my bed while still wearing my dress from the night before.

I slowly turned to sit, my hand coming up to cover my eyes from the sun shining brightly through the open curtains. Then the memories of the night before flooded through my head like a slideshow of photos.

Entering the barn and noticing Kota was also there, in the same space as me for the first time. Getting drunk and dancing with Stefan. Stefan meeting Owen for the first time. And finally, me meeting Kota for the first time. His words were harsh, his touch a contrasting gentle.

At the memory of his touch, I closed my eyes and dared my hand to wander as his had against the side of my head, but my touch failed to elicit the same tingles his had.

I let out a sigh, letting my hand drop to my bed. I reached around in search for my phone, then my fingers finally wrapped around the device. I raised it to my face to unlock it, and found there were no messages.

I wasn’t sure what I expected. A part of me wanted to wake up to find a message from him, asking to do over our first meeting. A part of me also wanted Peyton to text me so I could reply with a massive paragraph about the drama the night before. But she had to have been busy, I excused.

I sighed softly as I finally stood from my bed and made my way to the breakfast table at the end of the room. I shoved my hand into my open bag and grabbed my joggers and oversized jumper which were folded neat and shoved into the depths of the bag.

I made my way to the bathroom, assessing the damage of the night before in the mirror. My makeup was smudged all around my eyes in the panda style, and my hair was beyond frizzy and knotted all over.

I sighed softly as I placed my fresh clothes on top of the closed toilet lid, then I grabbed my hairbrush from the sink counter. I ran the bristles through my hair, flinching whenever the brush tugged on a set of knots a little too hard. After what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes at best, my hair remained frizzy but had become knot free.

I let out a sigh at my own reflection and then closed my eyes. I felt rough, and the sooner I got home the better.

I turned around and reached into the shower, turning the tap for the water to fall from the waterfall shower head. I then stripped from my dress and underwear before I stepped inside the shower, closing the door behind me.

I closed my eyes as my hands came to my hair, pushing the wet mess from my face. I tilted my head up, basking in the feeling of the warm water covering my skin.

I let out a soft sob, feeling the need to cry but tears failed me. So I did my best to force a strong and carefree mindset as I kept my mouth shut and went about my usual cleaning routine, making the small shower space smell of oat milk shampoo and my favourite vanilla body wash.

Once I was convinced I was clean of both Owen and Kota’s touches, I stepped out of the shower and didn’t bother to shut the door behind me as I dried off in the main bathroom space. Once dry, I pulled on my fresh clothes and then tied my wet hair back into a lazy bun.

I left the bathroom with my towel and wash up bag in tow, making sure to tuck them away back neat into my weekend bag. Then I went back to the bathroom for my dress, placing it back in its home, the cloth bag hanging in the wardrobe by the front door of the room.

I then made my way to the bed and lazily pulled the blanket back into place. It wasn’t perfect, but it was neater than the mess I had left it initially. Then I sat on the end of the bed and slipped on the trainers I had worn on the way to the place.

I was ready for the day ahead, albeit feeling a little dead inside—both from being hungover and from being upset at the memory of the night before. I picked up my weekend bag, phone and room card from the coffee table before I made my way to the front door. I grabbed the dress from its place, then I left the room and made my way to Stefan’s room two doors down.

I rapped my knuckles against the wood and then waited for a few seconds, the sounds of quiet shuffling heard from the other side of the door. It was still early, but I wanted to chow down on the free breakfast before I began the drive back home where I didn’t doubt I would spend all day sleeping, or wallowing in self pity.

The door finally pulled open slowly, and I gave Stefan a forced toothy grin. His room was in utter darkness, and he looked exhausted with his hair a mess all over his head, sticking out in all directions. “Ashton?” He spoke, his voice deep and sleep ridden.

I smiled as I pushed past him into his room, and then I grabbed the curtains with my free arm to push them open. “Wake up dickhead, we have to have breakfast and leave soon.”

Stefan flinched at the sudden intrusion of the sunlight as he entered the room after me. He let out a yawn as he spoke, “I thought you wanted to stay an extra night for the spa?”

I stood straighter, and shook my head. I was unsure how to pass off the excitement the morning before. Both Stefan and I had made plans to pay for the room an extra day at breakfast, then we would dish out on the most expensive spa treatment and spend the day in the inside pool. But I was far from the happy I felt 24 hours ago. I needed to go home and wallow in a nest of self pity.

I thought for a second to come up with a reasonable explanation, before I lied coolly to him, “I have to get home, my mother is apparently coming to town today.”

Stefan blinked slowly as he tried to register my words, then he just nodded before he made his way to the bathroom. I sat on the edge of his bed as he left the door open. I heard a stream of water and cringed at the idea he was using the toilet with the door open.

“You must hate it when she does that,” Stefan called out, to which I frowned.

“Hate what?” I called back. Stefan remained silent for a few seconds once again, then I heard the flush of the toilet. I heard a stream of water, which I assumed was from the sink, and then some splashing. Then the noises ceased save for the padding of heavy and tired footsteps.

Stefan came back into view from the bathroom, and only then had I noticed he was wearing nothing save for boxer shorts. I looked away, regretting waking him up so early. But the sooner I could place distance between myself and the recently forsaken Manor, the better.

I heard the ruffle of clothing, and then noticed Stefan wandering around the room in an outfit similar to my own, joggers and a baggy t-shirt. His hair remained a mess, and I suspected he would leave it that way until he got home at least.

I watched as Stefan wandered around the room, grabbing random items and shoving them in his weekend bag. Before I could stand and usher us out, he made his way to the phone on one of the bedside tables and picked it up after pressing the number one.

The phone rang loudly, so loud I could hear it from where I sat almost perfectly. Someone seemed to pick up the call on the other end as I heard a muffled voice speaking.

“Hi, this is Stefan Moore of room 110. Myself and my friend would like to arrange for our bags to be taken from the room to our car, please?” Stefan went silent, nodding to the person on the other end. “No problem, we’ll leave our bags outside the room then. Thank you.” And with that, Stefan placed the phone back down on the receiver gently.

“The less of that heavy shit I had to drag around, the better I’ll feel,” Stefan stated as he stood and closed his eyes. His body swayed, and I let out a small laugh in response.

“You’re so dramatic sometimes,” I stated, to which Stefan’s eyes flew open. He stared at me with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “Plus, it was you who decided to bring all that stuff, so you only have yourself to blame.”

“How the fuck are you so awake and so fine ? You drank more than me, and you’re usually a lightweight,” Stefan looked baffled as he checked himself out in the mirror with a frown.

“Oh trust me, I feel like shit,” I stated, standing from my space on the bed.

Little did he know, it was not down to a hangover but instead it was down to the fact I had been caught by Kota in another man’s arms—I had been caught being called babe by another man right in front of him.

Stefan walked to his suitcase and bag lazing by the front door of the room and then pulled the door open. I moved to stand in the doorway, pushing my back against the door to hold it open for Stefan. “Thanks,” He murmured .

Then he continued. “You look like you’ve been awake for hours and like you’re not even hungover, it’s not fair.”

I laughed, but the action caused the throb from inside my brain to get worse. I closed my eyes and let out a breath between pursed lips before I opened my eyes again. “Let’s just go eat some breakfast, we should sober up quicker then.”

“If I throw up in your car, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Stefan joked as he placed his bags outside the hotel room carefully, then he rushed back inside to check every surface to ensure he hadn’t left anything behind.

“If anyone’s going to throw up, it’ll probably be me since I mixed my drinks all night. You stayed mostly on the same thing,” I finally stepped away from the door once Stefan resurfaced with his phone, wallet and room card in his hands.

We made our way to the stairs after I placed my bag and dress down beside Stefan’s. At first he went to lecture me about leaving my dress in a messy pile, but the glare I gave him told him not to try anything.

So he pursed his lips before we made our way to the first floor. Once we reached the bottom of the stairs, we noted the chalkboard signs from the night before then pointed in the direction of ‘the café’.

“I hope they make good coffee,” Stefan mumbled before he walked ahead of me, following the signs around the right side of the foyer until we found a large open room with rows of tables, serving tables lined on the sides of the room filled with varying foods, and a counter down the far bottom with many fancy looking coffee machines pushed against the wall behind.

I followed Stefan with careful steps, my eyes wandering around the room. I bit the inside of my lower lip, seeking out Kota or Owen so I could run in the opposite direction. But when I found neither of them in the café, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I hoped it stayed that way since it was still fairly early, and most people slept in when it was the weekend—especially if they got drunk the night before. But then the voice of the woman the night before haunted me, reminding me he went back to the hotel with another woman who said they had an early morning to look forward to.

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the memory of the night before.

I followed Stefan closely as he led us to the counter where the plates sat. We grabbed a place each, then we walked around the tables on the edges of the room. I gave myself essentially a full English breakfast before I found us a table by the large glass windows so we could admire the view of the fields in the summer sunlight.

Stefan left his plate on the table with me as he went and got us drinks, a latte for each of us, and a glass of orange juice for myself while he opted for an apple juice. Two trips to the drinks counter, and he was finally back for good.

Once Stefan sat down, I grabbed my orange juice and downed half of the drink in one go. He stared at me wide eyed and surprised. I slammed the glass down on the table and opened my mouth, ready to expose why I was in such a shitty mood, but then I felt a gentle hand grab my shoulder.

I stiffened and turned, but instead of being met with one of the two men I wished to avoid for the rest of the fucking year, I was met by the beautiful, yet very tired looking, Mrs Carol King.

“Mrs King,” I stood, a smile on my face.

The woman pushed my shoulder down to make me sit back in my seat, then waved her hand as she sat beside me. “Ashton, it’s Carol, please.”

I nodded slowly. “Sorry, Carol,” I repeated her name at her request, to which she gave me a beaming smile that showed off her perfect white teeth. “Would you like me to go get you coffee or anything?”

“Oh, no bother. Malcolm is getting our food and drinks now,” The woman replied, her hometown accent, the same as my own, thicker in her tired state. Mrs King was a native to the area, whereby in contrast her husband was from London, born to a French mother and an English father.

“Did you both enjoy your night?” She asked, a yawn then disturbing the peace. She used her left hand to cover her mouth, showing off the beautiful silver band encrusted with tiny diamonds. Mr and Mrs King had been married for 20 years, however due to them being so busy with work they never invested in wedding rings until recent years—so the ring looked fresh off the showroom still.

I nodded, picking up a slice of dry toast before biting into it. “We did, thank you,” I replied, finishing the bread in just three large bites. I then picked up my coffee and took a sip. “And yourself?” I asked, half expecting her to answer without me asking but she had remained silent.

The woman gave me a little mischievous grin, even daring to nudge me gently with her elbow. “My whole weekend will be made if you agree to become team lead for my home project.”

My eyes widened. I knew if I joined the project I would have likely been made team lead due to being the most senior in our department, however I didn’t expect for the company owner herself to request me as team lead.

“Mrs K—Carol,” I let out breathily. “I appreciate the offer, I really do,” I began, to which she waved her hand.

“Then you’ll be fucking stupid to reject it,” Swearing sounded natural from the woman’s mouth, but that didn’t stop the shocked expressions both Stefan and I held as we turned to look at one another.

I was at a loss of words, but the small kick Stefan gave me under the table told me all I had to know. I should accept the offer. So I turned to the woman and forced my biggest smile. I noted from not far away, her husband came holding two trays of food and drinks, so I decided it was the best chance to just agree before I had both Kings trying to convince me.

“Fine, I’ll join the team. I’ll tell Casey first thing onMonday morning,” But Mrs King stopped listening from when I said the word ‘join’. She rushed to grab her laptop from the bag by her feet and pulled it open in front of her.

“It’s too early to start work, don’t you think Ca?” Mr King spoke as he placed the trays on the free space on the table. He then pulled up the seat next to Stefan, even shaking his hand in greeting.

“What the fuck is going on?” Stefan mouthed at me, to which I shrugged.

“I’m emailing Casey to let her know we have Ashton on board for our home project,” She stated, then paused her typing. Her eyes flickered to Stefan, narrowing slightly. “I take it you’re on the team too, Mr Moore?”

Stefan’s lips parted, looking considerably more sober than he had looked half an hour ago. He nodded slowly, not daring to say anything. The woman just smiled as she hummed a tune to herself, her fingers dancing along the keys once again as she seemed to be typing up an email.

“Forgive my wife, she can be such a workaholic,” Malcolm stated as he picked up a forkful of eggs and shovelled them into his mouth.

The table fell into silence, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. Despite the intimidating aura the King couple usually gave off, sitting with them for breakfast felt oddly comfortable. They asked about Stefan and I, how we enjoyed work and how we lived our lives. The couple felt as if they cared, as if they wanted to get to know us beyond just being people on their payroll.

And it was a welcome distraction from Owen and Dakota.

I drove home with a soft acoustic song playing through my speakers. Stefan and I both don our sunglasses, the bright sun only increasing the unwelcome headaches forming in our skulls.

The drive was silent mostly, and I could tell it was because Stefan didn’t want to make me feel like he was forcing me to tell him what was wrong, why I was so wound up the night before. Owen was with us, so obviously the reason wasn’t down to him.

I cleared my throat as I shifted in my seat as I whizzed my car a little too fast down the motorway. I wanted to close my eyes, but I needed to remain awake and alert so I decided maybe it best I just talk to him, tell him what was going on.

“You remember that man I told you I liked, Dakota Vernon, yeah?” I asked, to which Stefan sat up straighter. He nodded slowly before he let out a drawn out hm . “Well, he was there last night…”

Stefan remained silent for a few seconds, as if he was trying to register the words. He then turned his head to me, and I knew him well enough to know his eyes were likely wide and surprised from behind the brown lenses.

“You never told me he worked for us,” Stefan sounded slightly betrayed, to which I pressed the button on my steering wheel to change the song playing to a more upbeat one. I didn’t need songs about love and heartbreak at that moment.

“Well, I didn’t know until last night either,” I replied, to which Stefan’s body posture softened. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and tried my best to speak, while also trying not to get overwhelmed by the experience.

“He’s one of the people hired in from that external finance company. I noticed him… Just before food,” I relayed, to which Stefan nodded slowly. He reached for the volume nob of my radio and turned the music down so he could ensure he heard everything. “That was why I began to act weird. I wasn’t even sure it was him at first, I thought it was just someone who looked li ke him or that I was so addicted to him his fucking ghost was haunting my every move.”

“Did you two actually talk? Like face to face?” Stefan asked, his lips parting to which I nodded my head slowly. “Woah, how the hell did I miss that, I was by your side most of the night.

I smiled sadly and nodded my head, the memory of the gorgeous woman with her black hair tied up in a beautiful knit with braided pieces a taunt to the calm I was trying to feel. “Yeah, we did. He saw me with Owen and when I said he wasn’t my boyfriend, he said it means nothing to him anyway.”

Stefan’s lips parted even wide. “I think we took that in the same way,” He replied, to which I nodded my head slowly.

“As if he was telling me that I meant nothing? Yeah, that’s how I took it too,” I replied, my grip on the steering wheel getting slightly tighter. The sadness was slipping, and anger was beginning to replace it, bubbling just under the surface of my skin.

“That probably wasn’t what he meant,” Stefan began, but I shot him a quick look and even though I had sunglasses covering my eyes, he knew it was a warning glare not to defend him.

Stefan put his hands up in surrender, before he reached for the volume nob on the radio again. He turned it up and gasped when he realised the song playing and began to belt the lyrics as he rolled the window down.

I smiled slightly, thankful I had him as a distraction. Until we would part ways at least. Then my distraction was going to come in the form of a day-long nap.

“If it helps, from what I heard, Owen is the better option anyway,” Stefan stated between song changes, the final words on the topic.

Within no time, too quick for my liking really, I pulled up in our office car park where Stefan’s car sat abandoned.

I didn’t help him with his bags again, I just leant against the back of my car as I watched him struggle to pull the suitcase out with huffs and puffs. But finally the bags were moved from the back of my car, into his own.

Stefan and I never hugged, he usually settled for a fist bump and called it a day. I barely even hugged Peyton unless I felt like I needed a hug. But Stefan could tell I needed a moment of comfort, even if it was fleeting. So he reached out and wrapped his arms around me. He didn’t even bother to wait for me to wrap my arms around him in return, he just lightly patted my head then let me go.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” Stefan pushed his sunglasses to sit on top of his head as the sun began to get covered up by forming clouds above.

I smiled and nodded my head, holding my hand out with my fingers all closed save for my thumb and little finger. Stefan rolled his eyes but smiled and brought his own hand to mine before he connected our pinky fingers. He pressed this thumb into mine, then we shook our hands.

“And you tell me about your holiday,” I returned when Stefan turned to walk back to his car. He waved his hand above his head in acknowledgement before he climbed into his car.

The drive home was silent and uncomfortable, but music just felt like it was slowly pissing me off. I drove a little too fast, and I wouldn’t have been surprised had I been sent speeding fines in the post a few weeks later due to it.

I pulled my car up into my driveway and turned the engine off before I had even fully stopped. I then pressed my brake hard and lifted my handbrake. It was a terrible habit I had learnt from my father. But I was in a rush, and I just wanted— needed —to be in the comfort of my bed.

I stepped out of my car and slammed the door shut harder than intended. I then pressed the button to lock it, my bags could wait until later. I then made my way to the front door and felt the sting behind my eyes as I fumbled to push the key into the lock.

I let out a sob of frustration, some tears finally daring to fall. I blinked them away, finally managing to push the key into the barrel. I turned the key and threw the door open before I stepped inside and pulled my key from the front of the door before I slammed it shut and secured the key back in the barrel from the inside.

Once safe inside my home, I grabbed the wooden unit by my front door and came to a squat before it as I let out some more tears. I tried to shake them away, but I knew once the barrier had broke, there was no stopping me until I got too exhausted to keep crying.

I stood and kicked off my shoes before I made my way with blurry tear filled eyes to my stairs. I held onto the white banister as I made careful steps up them. My room was the first one when you reached the top of the stairs for which I was thankful for at that moment.

I rushed in to my room, ignoring the mess around me on the floor, and threw myself into my bed. I pulled my duvet up to my neck and closed my eyes, basking in the familiar warmth that had comforted me since I was 18 years old. I didn’t doubt I had done the same thing three years ago, the last time I allowed him to hurt me.

I sniffled, trying my best to calm myself down. I was older, and adult. I was more mature. I would just move onto the next, like I had been doing for the last few years each time a man pissed me off and upset me.

But the words I tried to convince myself with fell flat as I reached into my joggers and pulled out my phone. I stared at it, a handful of notifications from social media apps where people had tagged me in photos, a message from Casey, a message from Stefan, and even a few messages from Owen which I had no energy to open or entertain at that moment.

I ignored everything in the notifications panel on my phone and opened the messaging app I used to talk to Kota and typed out a message.

Me: I hope she gives you a fucking STD.

The curser blinked at the end of the message, as if asking me I was really sure that was what I wanted to send him. So I rushed to erase the message and stared at my screen as I considered how to reach out.

Me: Did you enjoy your night?

Before I could reconsider, my thumb automatically pressed the green arrow at the end of the message box to send it. I stared, the tick turning from one grey, to two grey ticks. I knew they would never turn blue and I would never know when he was active, but that somehow made me feel even worse.

What if he never replied again?

I stared at my screen for what felt like hours, waiting for a response. Nothing. It was only adding to my agitation.

So I placed my phone on my bedside table and closed my eyes, hoping sleep would ease me of my troubles for a short while at least.

I woke in a daze, sitting up hurriedly as I looked around my room with confusion for the briefest of moments. Then the memories flooded back.

Right, I had gone to the work event, I had fucked up my chances with Kota, and I had gone home to cry. Got it.

I reached for my phone on my bedside table to check the time, but instead of my eyes finding the time, they found the familiar photo of his face to reveal he had replied to my message, the one I had forgot I had even sent .

I felt butterflies fly around my chest, and bit my bottom lip to try to stop myself from smiling. He could have sent me a message ending… whatever the fuck we were.

But even at that potential, I still clicked the message and opened it. I had to see what he said, I was addicted to his notifications and his attention, even if he barely gave me the bare minimum of it.

Kota: I did. Seeing how beautiful you looked in that dress was the highlight of the night. Shame I couldn’t go back to your hotel room and help you take it off..

My lips parted for a second. I wasn’t sure what I expected him to reply with, but it wasn’t that. However, I would take it. It seemed to show he was fine with what had happened the night before.

Me: I mean it, he wasn’t my boyfriend

Kota: Oh, I know

Me: Yeah, because I told you

Kota: No, because of how you pushed him away

Me: I didn’t push him away

Kota: You didn’t react in the same way as you had when I touched you though…

At the reminder of his touch, my cheeks heated and I rushed to lock my phone as I carefully considered how to answer his message. I could play it off on being too drunk to even register what was going on, maybe.

But as I lay back down and placed my phone on my chest, my lips turned up into a smile. Things seemed okay between us.