Under My Skin - Page 32/52

When the show was done, we all stumbled back to the limo and headed down to The Dungeon. While we were all together before we got out, I got in my bag and passed around the list of “dares” that we all had to complete while Emma and Leah switched out their bride/bridesmaid getups. We all got out and went into the club, whooping and hollering, and I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think Emma actually screamed out, ‘Let’s do this shit! Party’s here!’ before she stumbled onto the dance floor.

Fade to black. Cause everything got pretty damn blurry after that.

Chapter 14

“Oh my fucking GOD!” I moaned at the incessant pounding splitting apart my head. Cracking open one eye, I hurriedly slammed it shut again as the sunlight sharpened like a blade and speared violently into my brain. “Sweet baby Jesus, what the hell did I do?” I asked myself on a groan, slowly attempting to roll over from where I was, apparently, lying face down. It seriously felt like I was sleeping on a wooden board that was in no way, shape, or form comfortable.

Once I got halfway to my back, I let out a scream as I went crashing down to what I determined to be the floor. Shit! Finally gathering my nerve, I opened my eyes to find that I was lying on Emma’s kitchen floor, right beside the table, which was where I was sleeping? What the fuck?

Slowly getting to my feet, I took stock of the situation. Hangover, check. Clothes? Patting myself down and double checking with my eyes, I determined that, yes, I did have clothes on.

I did a double take when I got to my hips. It felt like I was wearing way too many clothes. Like an abnormal amount of clothes. Shaking my head at myself, I gave up trying to piece it together, telling myself I’d figure it out later. I leaned heavily on the table and let out a shockingly loud snort as I took in the sight stretching out before me in the kitchen AND the living room.

Emma was passed out, snoring heavily, on the kitchen counter, her head resting on a pillow stuffed into the sink. She was wearing her Suck for a Buck shirt, still, but all of the life savers were gone. She did have a rather large wad of ones pinned to her shirt, so obviously she got paid for every one of them sucks. Huh. She also looked like she’d gotten into Luke’s underwear drawer and was wearing about three pairs of his boxer briefs. Over top of her jeans. Didn’t look very comfortable to me, but what the hell?

In the living room, Jan, Emma’s mom, was curled up in the corner of the couch with my mom’s head resting in her lap. My mom’s feet were propped up on a sleeping Chloe, who looked like a hooker from the eighties. No, seriously. Her lips were neon pink, her eyelids were electric blue, and her hair was teased to heights I’d never seen before. Which was scary, because I grew up in the eighties!

Leah was on the floor and I snorted again when I noticed that she was actually laying in Doug’s bed. Once I realized she was in Doug’s bed, I looked around for Doug, but didn’t see him anywhere. Until I stumbled into the living room and saw him. Sleeping dead center on top of Jenna. Who was sleeping halfway under the coffee table.

Okay, seriously. What the hell happened last night?!

I made my way slowly down the hall to the bathroom and had to do another double take when I looked at myself in the mirror. Apparently Chloe wasn’t the only one who got a makeover. My face was made up like Kiss on crack. And I was wearing a hodge-podge of men’s boxers, boxer-briefs, and even (shudder) one pair of tightie-whities. Well, more like dirty-loosies…oh, gross!

I frantically shucked all of the underwear off my hips, even taking my pants off for good measure. After scrubbing all the make-up from my face, I padded down the hall toward Brandon’s room in nothing but my cutesy little party top and my panties, intending to raid his closet for something to wear, when I heard a gasp behind me.

“Jesus, Allie! What the…what are you…where are your clothes?” a male voice stammered behind me.

I whirled around in a panic, my hands flying every which way to cover whatever they could cover as I blushed and fumbled out, “Luke!” Oh, God. I could feel my face burning, which isn’t saying much considering the deep blood red that was creeping up Luke’s face at an alarming rate.

Without stammering out another word, I turned and ran like the devil himself was on my ass, slamming Brandon’s door behind me. Shaking my head (and then cursing myself for that as my head starting pounding again), I got to my feet and rummaged through Brandon’s dresser, coming up with an old pair of sweats that I had to roll about a zillion times. Oh, well. At least I was covered.

I shrugged and walked back out of the room, snorting loudly in laughter as I entered the living room and saw Luke standing with his hands on his hips, staring in some combination of amusement, concern, and confusion at Emma. She was still passed out, snoring away.

Doug was now sitting on top of Jenna (still asleep), smiling his goofy doggie grin at us and wagging his tail so hard it’s a wonder Jenna was actually still sleeping. And everyone else was still out of it, too.

Luke turned around and threw his hands up. “So, how the hell are you up and moving?” he asked.

I shrugged. And then tilted my head to amend my answer. “Well, actually it’s because I was, apparently, sleeping on the kitchen table. I fell off. Woke me up. Painfully.”

He shook his head, but I could see his shoulders shaking with the laughter he was trying to suppress. “Alright, so now, wanna explain to me why Emma’s wearing approximately a week’s worth of men’s underwear?”

I gulped because he wasn’t really laughing anymore. I nervously chuckled, wracking my brain to come up with some plausible reason that wouldn’t sound awful. And then I remembered!

“Oh, yeah!” I chirped. Well, chirped as much as a hungover person could chirp. I made a dash for the bathroom and grabbed up the mess that I had dumped on the bathroom floor, taking care not to touch the ‘dirty-loosies’ and plodded back into the kitchen.

Luke looked at me like I’d lost my mind and, frankly, I was probably going to make it worse for at least the next few seconds. I held up the pairs of men’s underwear that I’d been wearing myself after fishing around in the pocket of my jeans for the crumpled up paper I’d stuffed in there.

“So, as you can see, I came home wearing men’s underwear, too-” I started, but he cut me off.

“This isn’t really helping your explanation any, Allie. I mean seriously, you don’t think Brandon or Jackson would be a little worried by the fact that you had men’s underwear on, too? And,” he paused, looking over said undergarments hanging from my fingers with a grimace, “they’ve clearly been worn.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “If you’d let me FINISH!” I said, maybe a little more loudly than necessary. But that loudness could have all been in my head. I mean, the Trans Siberian Orchestra was already in there gearing up for their tour, so it’s a wonder I could hear anything over that.

“This is a list of dare-type things that we had to complete for the bachelorette party. See? Number 15, get a guy to take his underwear off for you and hand them over. We were very clearly overachievers. And before you ask, no, we didn’t see anything we weren’t supposed to. At least Emma and I didn’t. I can’t say the same for Leah, because the last I remember seeing her, she was headed into the men’s room to assist.” I shook my head.