And Now the Tables Do Turn

My face was pressed flat against fabric. Sheets, I guessed. My head was pounding and my mouth was dry. I even lacked the willpower to open my eyes. I took a deep, shaky breath and the smell of smoke filled my nostrils. I coughed and rolled myself over using all of the energy I could muster in my hungover state.

I didn't remember much of the night before. I remembered music, shots, and people. Lots of all of those. I also remembered talking to John in a drunken state.

In my new position, my face was against a bare chest. My eyes still closed, the corner of my mouth upturned in a smile. I must have gone to John's after the party. That actually made sense.

I kissed the smooth skin of his chest twice before kissing the his neck softly. He smelled differently though, I realized, kissing his jaw.

He sighed quietly, moving his arm to sling it over my waist.

"You know, this is a really nice way to wake up," John said. But it wasn't John.

Realization hit me like a punch in the gut. My eyes flew open and I was face to face with Josh Montgomery and he was smiling.

My stomach lurched and I rolled away from him so quickly and with so much force that I found myself sprawled on the floor of the room. I then realized that I was naked and that was just another blow to the stomach. I scrambled to my feet and made a run for the bathroom, making it just in time to spill the contents of my stomach into toilet bowl.

My breathing was heavy as I flushed, pressing my forehead against the cold tile floor.

"That looks comfortable," Josh said. I could hear the smirk in his voice, which was close. I guessed that he was standing in the door way.

"You're-" I started to insult him but my stomach lurched again and I spewed into the toilet.

That time, the room started spinning slower and slower until it wasn't at all. The light hurt my eyes, and my head was still pounding.

"You're disgusting," I spat at him, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I covered myself with the only thing I could grab, a towel in the corner that had probably been there for a few days.

"Here," he said, stepping back into the bedroom. He returned a minute later and tossed a wad of fabric at me. I blocked it from hitting my head just in time as I lifted my arm. He had thrown me a large shirt and as I started to pull it over my head, the panties I'd been wearing the night before fell onto the floor.

"Where are the rest of my clothes?" I asked, standing up slowly to keep my balance. I stood with my chin up, trying to maintain some dignity.

"In the kitchen probably. There might be some in the hall, too," he said, sounding rather proud of himself as he stepped into a pair of tidy-whities.

"This didn't happen," I told him, jaw clenched.

"No, actually, I'm pretty sure it did. Twice, now that I think about it." His brows knit together, looking as if he was trying to remember it clearly.

"This didn't happen," I repeated, my voice tight. I took a step towards him, leaving about a foot between us.

"Tell yourself that all you want Spencer, but that bruise on your hip tells a different story," he pointed out, tugging up the hem of the t-shirt to reveal a bruise on my hip that looked a bit like a handprint.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Why on God's green earth would I cheat on John with you?" I asked myself, pushing past him into the bedroom. Then I realized what I'd said, what I'd done.

I had cheated on John. I had slept with my boyfriend's bandmates, one of his best friends. I had cheated on John.

I felt like I was going to be sick again, but nothing happened. My knees were shaking and a slid down to the floor, putting my head between my knees, closing my eyes.

"Feeling guilty?" Josh asked, walking over to me.

"Fuck you," I spat at him, not even wasting the energy to look up at him.

"You already did that last night," he joked.

I looked up quickly. He was crouched in front of me, only a few inches away. His comment still fresh in my mind, I slapped him across the face with a satisfying smack!

"This didn't happen," I told him a third time, pushing myself to my feet. I padded down the hall, stooping to collect my bra right outside the door. My jeans were a few feet away and I put them on too quickly, nearly falling over in my rush to get dressed. My shirt was tossed on the counter in the kitchen.

Josh was hot on my tail, saying something that I didn't even bother paying attention to.

My shirt and bra in hand, I looked over at my shoulder at him. "Turn around."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Turn the fuck around, I'm changing my shirt," I snapped at him. I stared him down until he turned his back to me, muttering something about having already seen the full package the night before.

Straightening my shirt once I pulled it on over my bra, I cleared my throat. "Where are my keys and my phone?" I demanded.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I was busy paying attention to your body, not where you put your keys."

I clenched my jaw and relaxed a bit upon seeing my phone sitting on the counter. I grabbed it and breathed a sigh of relief. My keys were nowhere to be seen though. To my luck, I had an extra key hidden in my car, in case I ever lost my keys. Melanie told me I was crazy, but now, it came in handy.

"You breathe a word of this to anyone, I will personally cut off your dick, then let John kill you," I warned him, pointing my finger at him threateningly. He laughed once, as if I was joking. I grabbed my heels and stormed barefoot out to my car.

Thankfully, it was unlocked and I located the extra key with ease. Josh was standing in the door way, watching me. Just looking at him made my skin crawl.

I peeled out of the driveway, biting down hard on my tongue. My eyes were stinging with tears at the thought of what I'd done the night before. I'd always been one to say that cheaters don't deserve a second chance, that if I was ever cheated on, I'd never speak to the cheater again, and now I was one of the things I hated the most.

Since I wasn't able to find my keys, I had no way to get into my apartment. I reminded myself that I had given Melanie a key months before, in case of emergencies.

Melanie didn't live far from Josh, much to my relief and I wrapped my arms around myself tightly as I walked to the front door of her apartment and knocked. It took her a few minutes to answer, and she came to the door in sweats and a giant cardigan.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, stifling a loud yawn and pushing her messy hair out of her face.

"I need to use your shower, borrow some clothes, and need the extra key to my apartment I gave you," I said quickly, brushing past her, into the apartment.

"Why are you barefoot? And why do you absolutely reek of beer? What happened to your key?"

"When did we decide on playing 20 Questions, Mel?" I snapped at her, and she raised her eyebrows.

"You know where the shower is," she said with a shrug, crossing her arms over her chest. I nodded my thanks and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I peeled off my clothes. I shuddered at my appearance. My eyes were bloodshot and puffy and my lips were chapped. My hair was tangled and ratty looking and I looked at the bruise on my hip. Sure enough, it was the shape of a hand print. I sighed, stepping under the scalding spray of the shower.

I scrubbed and scrubbed, trying to get rid of the low, disgusting feeling that was under my skin. Tears spilled from my eyes and blended with the hot water that pounded against my back. By the time I stepped out of the show, my skin was bright pink and burning.

Melanie had laid a pair of jeans and a t-shirt on the vanity for me I realized as I wrapped the fluffy towel around me, shivering slightly. I dressed and avoided looking at the fogged-over mirror. Running the towel through my hair, I left the bathroom after picking up my pile of dirty clothes, knowing my eyes were still puffy from crying.

My sister was sitting at the small kitchen table with a coffee mug in hand. There was also a mug sitting on the table, the key to my apartment beside it. I sat down in the chair, folding one of my legs under me. I took a long drink of coffee and I could feel her eyes on me.

She cleared her throat. "Want to talk whatever happened last night?" she asked, running her finger around the rim of her mug.

"Not really." I blinked at her, biting down on my tongue a bit. I could feel that my cheeks were flushed and my mind was buzzing.

She nodded once, still toying with the coffee cup. "Who was it?"

"What?" I asked her, my voice sharp. I snapped my eyes up to her.

"Who did you sleep with?"

"Who said I slept with anyone?" I snapped at her.

"Well, you show up here barefoot, smelling like you slept in a tub of beer, your clothes are a mess, you can't find your keys, you've been crying, and you're very defensive for someone who hasn't slept with someone other than your boyfriend," she explained, sounding very calm about it.

"I said I didn't want to talk about it." I took another drink of coffee and pursed my lips.

"Was it Stephen? Honestly, that would be so Jerry Springer!" Melanie joked, laughing once.

"Jesus Christ, do you always have to be such a bitch?" I asked, my voice raised a bit. I stood up quickly. "It doesn't matter whether you like John, or his band members, but I love him and I might have just fucked everything up and you're making jokes about it!"

She looked surprised that I'd yelled at her. "Well then," she said simply, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows once. She let out a quiet sigh.

I swallowed and another blush rose to my cheeks. "Thanks for the clothes and whatnot. I'll wash them tonight and bring them back tomorrow."

She nodded, clearing her throat again. "Take your time with them."

I nodded back and picked up the extra key to my apartment and started walking to the door. I paused halfway there and turned to look at her.

"If anybody asks, I stayed the night here last night," I told her and she sighed again.

I threw my dirty clothes in the backseat, not even caring and I slid into the driver's seat. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet and I bit down on my tongue.

I pulled out of the parking lot and instead of turning to go to my own apartment, I turned the opposite way to go to John's. The entire drive, I fought back tears, knowing that if I cried again, my eyes would be red and puffy and John would try to figure out what was wrong.

I parked on the street outside his parent's house and checked my reflection in the rear-view mirror. My eyes were glossy and I had circles under my eyes, but other than that, I was good to go.

I walked through the lawn towards the front door and rang the doorbell. It was sunny and hot already, and I squinted as I waited for someone to answer the door. Stephen answered the door thirty seconds later, wearing a pair of basketball shorts and displaying his awesome tanlines.

He yawned as he opened the door. "Hey Spence."

"Morning Stephen," I said, managing half a smile. "John up yet?"

"Nope. You know where his room is though." He jabbed a finger up the stairs before shuffling his feet back to the living room where he collapsed on a couch.

I took a deep breath before starting up the stairs quietly. I came to John's door and twisted the knob lightly, pushing it open. John was sprawled out on his stomach under a huge pile of blankets. He had a fan going full blast, making the room freezing cold. I shivered before walking across the room silently. I paused to replace the jeans I'd borrowed from Melanie with a pair of sweats of John's that were laying in a basket of folded clothes.

Warmer now, I slid between the mattress and the blankets and curled against him. He stirred a bit and put an arm around me instinctively. A moment later, the corners of his mouth upturned and his eyes opened.

"Well this is a nice surprise," he said, pressing his lips to my cheek.

Guilt churned in my stomach and tears rose to my eyes again as soon as I heard his voice. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, trying to calm myself.

"Hey, what's wrong?" John asked softly, toying with the ends of my hair.

"I just missed you, that's all," I told him, finally releasing him.

"How was the rest of the party last night?"

"Fine," I lied, nodding.

Why was I such a fucking idiot?