Dirty Little Secret

I wake up the next morning wrapped in Tate's jacket. My dress is hanging over the chair in the corner. On the night stand there is a bottle of water, a little bottle of pain killers, and a note written on the backside of a receipt.

Cori,
I went to get the truck with Roy to go get the truck then got you some medicine. I'll be at the mechanics shop when you wake up.
Tate

I swallow down the small pills with a gulp of water before slowly putting my feet onto the floor. I sat there for a while, not sure if it was me or the room that was spinning.

I finally mustered up enough strength to pull myself up and walked to the chair in the corner that held my dress.

I take the stiff material and head to the bathroom to wash away all of last night’s filth. I unzip Tate's jacket letting it fall off my shoulders and make a puddle of fabric on the floor. Underneath I was still wearing my bathing suit. I untie the strings to the top and bottom and the material joins Tate's jacket.

I stare at myself in the mirror; the girl looking back isn't who I normally see. This girl has dark bags under her eyes that show through the smudged make up and her hair is heavily disheveled. I touch my face to confirm that who I am staring at is actually me.

I shake my head and turn the nobs for the shower, pointing it all the way towards hot. Inside I let the water drip down my body washing away yesterday’s mistakes and sending them swirling down the drain.

I started to make a mental note on everything that I did yesterday that I probably shouldn't of starting with kissing Tate. I couldn't remember why I did it, I just kissed him and Tate didn't even egg me on. He was just standing there, in the ocean doing nothing but accepting the kiss that I gave him. I probably shouldn't of drank in front of him, alcohol makes me do all sorts of things. I let out a groan and turned off the water.

Tate still wasn't back by the time I dress and reemerge from the bathroom. I swallow my pride, slip into my sandals and head out for the mechanics shop across the street.

Tate is leaning up against a work bench, flipping a wrench up in the air and by the looks of it Roy is laying under the truck.

"Morning," I say shyly not wanting to face Tate at all.

"Hi," He whispers to me obviously sensing my humility.

We look at each other for a moment, Tate's smiles grows wider and wider. I know he finds everything about my shame to be amusing. I look down at the feet wiggling to get out from underneath Tate's truck.

"Mornin' there Darlin', good night sleep?" Roy asks once he was back on my feet.

"That I can remember," I respond. "Is it finished, the truck?"

"Yeah, yeah. She's all good. I just need the payment."

Once again Tate produces his wallet and fishes out a shiny card.

Tate pulls back onto the road and we're off again.

"You want to know what happened last night?" Tate asks about fifteen minutes of silence.

"Was it that bad?" I bow my head in another wave of shame.

"We didn't sleep together or anything."

"So what did we do?" I take a mental sigh of relief.

"Well after you puked your guts out, I cleaned you up and washed your mouth out, which wasn't easy-"

"Cori, open your mouth," Tate says resting my head on his shoulder. I open my mouth and he dumps water from a paper Dixie cup into my mouth. "Now spit it back into the cup."

Instead of spitting, I let the water drain out of my mouth at the corners getting the front of Tate's jacket. I heard him mutter some foul words before throwing a towel over my chest. "I'm going to pick you up now okay?" I nod my head and don't protest as he picks me up bridal style and carries me into the other room to lay me on the bed.

Tate pulls back the covers and tucks me in. "Do you mind if I sleep on the other side?"

I shake my head no, too afraid that if I open my mouth my guts may fall out. I feel his weight on the other side of the bed. The covers shift and I am now laying in the same bed with Tate. Never in my life would I have thought that this could happen.

"Tate?" I whisper out, cutting the silence.

"Yeah?"

"Can you turn the television on? I can't sleep without it on."

"Sure," I feel Tate reaching for the remote on the nightstand. "It won't turn on."

"I can't sleep without the sound of talking," I tell him.

"Why?"

"It makes me not feel so alone," I confess.

Tate is quiet, I hope he isn't taking pity on me but I know Tate better than that. He doesn't pity anyone.

"Hey Tate?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you talk to me?" I roll over and lay my head on his chest. The constant motion of his chest rising and falling was soothing.

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"Anything," I yawn, already feeling less alone.

Tate's fingers brush through my damp hair, comforting me even more. "You're not who I thought you were, Cori. At first I thought you were just a pretty face but there is much more than that isn't there."

"Don't talk about how fucked up I am, I already know," I grumble scrunching up my face.

"Okay, well then I'll tell you a story. Back when my dad and Jackson were alive we would all go camping and when my parents went to sleep, Jackson and I would sneak back out of our tent and look up at the sky and make up these ridiculous stories. This one was his favorite, it's about an alien."

That was all that I heard of the story before I drifted into a foggy sleep, wrapped safely in Tate's arms.