Hope
Taylor and her friends are still laughing as I push myself off Dallas’ chest. I’m horrified about what I’ve just done, and most of all, I just want to sink through the floor, but despite my wishes, I don’t stand up. The world is spinning, and everything gets even worse when I realize Dallas is fuming.
I swallow thickly. “I’m... I’m...” I can’t bring myself to apologize as I stare at my vomit that is all over Dallas’ muscular chest.
He doesn’t look happy about it, either.
His jaw is clenched tight as he stands up. I’m fully expecting him to yell at me, but surprisingly, he helps me up from the deck. Why is he helping me? I can tell he isn’t happy. I can literally feel the heat radiating from his body, and it’s not from the sun. Yet he hasn’t raised his voice—something the old Dalla
