Carving for Cara: A Dark Romance Halloween Novella (Wrecked Series Book 1)
Carving for Cara: Chapter 8

My head is pounding so hard it feels as though there’s someone drumming beneath my skull. No matter how much light I block out, it’s not enough.

I’m hungover, and I’m feeling every sip of alcohol I took last night.

Sloan’s head is on the opposite side of my couch, and she has spent the last ten minutes stirring in her sleep; her body fights the rays of midday sunlight creeping through the windows. We’re both still wearing our costumes from the party last night, and to be honest, I’m not even sure how we got home.

After being nearly drowned by Jonah in the apple bobbing tank, I decided more liquor was the easiest way to escape my looming anxiety, and boy did it work. Sloan and I took shots of vodka while seated in massive oak chairs placed around the bonfire. I lost track of how many times we slammed back our little glasses, but it was too many.

Way too many.

Rolling to my side, I feel around between the cushions in search of my phone, eventually finding it on the back of the couch. I tap the screen, and it lights up with a time of 2:37 p.m and a text from Jonah.

SORRY ABOUT LAST NIGHT. HOPE YOU’RE NOT TOO MAD AT ME.

I groan, frustrated, as I think about how long he held my head beneath the surface of the water. And not only that, but he thought it was absolutely hilarious. What kind of sick fuck thinks publicly drowning their ex at a Devil’s Night party is funny? Apparently Jonah.

It’s time for him to find someone else to sink his pudgy little cock into. I’ve had enough of him and his selfish fucking. My vibrator does a thousand times more work than he does in the three pumps he manages to get in before busting his load. Not only can’t he last, but the noises that he makes force me to fold internally, crumpling into a tiny piece of paper while I wait for him to come.

Sex shouldn’t be like that. It’s time for bigger and better dicks.

I dim the brightness on my phone and then scroll aimlessly for a few minutes while I wait for Sloan to wake. Eventually, she does, and I can immediately tell her hangover is just as bad as mine. Before I can say anything, she’s on her feet and running toward the bathroom.

“Oh, fuck,” she wails as she sprints at full speed, jumping over the shoes we left in the middle of the floor after we got home.

Being the good best friend that I am, I don’t hesitate to leap off the couch, following her to the bathroom so I can hold her hair while she vomits. “Don’t puke on the rug,” I warn as I pull her bright red hair back and away from her face. I use the thick black scrunchie on my wrist to secure it to the back of her head in a messy bun.

“Than-“ she’s cut off by a revolting gag before she unloads the contents of her stomach into my toilet bowl.

“You’re welcome,” I sigh as I stand behind her, averting my eyes from the rank mixture of tequila, vodka, and what looks like chips.

We must have snacked on some at the party last night because we sure as hell didn’t make it farther than the living room couch as soon as we got home.

Running my fingers through my hair, I ask, “How did we get home? I can’t remember anything.”

Sloan shakes her head as it hangs lazily into the toilet. “I don’t know. The last thing I remember was when you went back to the apple bobbing tank for redemption. It was game over after that.”

We burst out laughing, and our laughter echoes through my under-decorated bathroom. Sloan begins vomiting again, and our amusement quickly fades. We sit in silence for a few minutes while Sloan tries to collect herself at the mercy of my toilet.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Jonah?” Sloan’s voice is quiet, and I sense a hint of sadness.

Fuck.

Caught off guard, I’m not really sure what to say, so I decide honesty will be the best route during the conversation I’ve been avoiding. “How’d you find out?”

“So it is true,” she snaps, eyeing me with bloodshot and mascara-smeared eyes. “One of Alex’s friends told me where you disappeared to and who you went with after I couldn’t find you last night. Alex didn’t last long, so I was surprised when I couldn’t find you a few minutes later.” She props her elbow up on the rim of the toilet, resting her pounding head in her hand.

She’s disappointed, I can tell.

It’s not hard for me to read Sloan, considering how long we’ve been best friends. She probably suspected I was hiding something from her the entire time I was sneaking around with Jonah.

“Jonah and I are done,” I declare to her, hoping I can gain back at least an ounce of her distrust. “He came all over my face after we fucked, which messed up my makeup, and when I saw the apple bobbing, I thought it would be a good way to hide how badly he rearranged my makeup, and then Jonah thought it would be funny to pretend to drown me when I was done.”

Sloan’s head turns toward me, and I see the fire in her eyes. “Jonah, is the reason you spent the night sopping wet? Are you fucking kidding me?”

She’s raging for me, and this wasn’t the reaction I was expecting from her. My best friend fights for me even when I’ve shamefully hidden secrets from her.

“I wish I was kidding,” I sigh, leaning my back against the bathroom wall. “I blocked his number already this morning after I woke up to an apology text from him. Fuck that guy.”

“Fuck that guy,” she repeats, cheering me on in my determination to leave behind the baggage I’ve been carrying around.

We’re both quiet for a few minutes while we’re lost in thought.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d think I was stupid for continuing to see him, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t detach myself from him. After last night it feels a lot clearer what I need to do. The decision to block him felt easy.”

Sloan rises from the toilet, wiping a glob of vomit from the corner of her mouth. She turns toward me, eyeing me up and down as she says, “I don’t think you’re stupid. I think what you did is stupid, but you are not stupid. If you had told me, we could have worked through it, and maybe you wouldn’t have needed to be held underwater to come to the determination that he’s a bad guy.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “You’re probably right. From here on out, I promise to tell you everything. No more secrets.”

“Good,” she smiles. “Can we eat like shit all day and watch Halloween movies? I can order a pizza if you order us some tacos from that Mexican restaurant we used to eat at all the time.”

“Deal,” I confirm. “We need to absorb the rest of the alcohol in our systems so we can start fresh tonight. We should arrange a cab ahead of time or find someone to take us home before we get blacked out this time. It’s kind of creepy not knowing how we got home last night.”

A faint prickle trails up the back of my neck, raising tiny hairs as it snakes its way around my throat. Chills roll down my spine, but I shake them off, dismissing them as nothing more than my body trying to fight off the after-effects of the alcohol.

That’s what I hope, at least.

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