Chapter 6: The Morning After Hell

Emily's POV

A scream tore out of my throat before I could stop it.

I scrambled backward, yanking the blanket up to my chin so hard I nearly fell off the edge of the mattress. My heart hammered wildly. “Oh my God… oh my God…”

Alex stirred, annoyed. He cracked one gray eye open, then the other. No panic. No surprise. Just mild irritation, like I had interrupted his sleep. He pushed himself up on one elbow, the sheet slipping down to reveal his sculpted chest and abs. He ran a hand through his messy hair and let out a long sigh.

“Relax,” he said, voice rough with sleep. “It’s just sex. We were both drunk. No need to act like the world ended.”

His words landed like a slap. I clutched the blanket tighter, tears already burning my eyes. “Just sex? Alex, I… we…” My voice cracked. “I was a virgin.”

He shrugged one shoulder, completely unbothered. “Well, you’re not anymore.” He reached for his phone on the nightstand and checked the time. “It’s almost nine. I have practice at ten-thirty.”

I stared at him, disbelief mixing with the shame churning in my stomach. This was the guy my brother trusted most. The hockey captain everyone wanted. And right now he looked at me like I was just another Saturday morning complication.

“Julian,” I whispered, horror creeping into my voice. “If he finds out… Alex, he’s your best friend. He’ll kill you. He’ll kill both of us.”

Alex leaned back against the headboard, still shirtless, scrolling through his phone like we were discussing the weather. “Yeah, he’d be pissed. So keep your mouth shut.” He glanced at me briefly. “You’re not going to tell him, right?”

I shook my head quickly, too stunned to speak. My hands trembled as I tried to keep the blanket wrapped around me. Every inch of my body ached with reminders of last night. Flashes kept coming — my fingers digging into his back, his low voice in my ear, the way I had cried his name like he could fix everything Lucas broke.

I felt sick.

Alex swung his legs off the bed and stood up in nothing but black boxer briefs. He walked to the dresser like he did this every weekend. He grabbed a bottle of water and some painkillers, then tossed them onto the bed near me.

“Here. For the headache.” His tone was casual, almost bored. He didn’t ask how I felt. He didn’t say sorry. He just threw a clean t-shirt and sweatpants in my direction. “Put those on. Your dress is… somewhere.”

I caught the clothes with shaking hands. The shirt smelled like him. That same scent from last night that had made me feel safe for a few stupid hours. Now it made me want to cry.

While I struggled to get dressed under the blanket, more memories flooded back. The desperate way I had kissed him in that dark corner. How I had whispered, “Make me forget him.” The way his hands had felt on my skin. How I had clung to him like he was my only lifeline.

And now he couldn’t even look at me properly.

I finally managed to pull his oversized t-shirt over my head. It reached mid-thigh. The sweatpants were way too big, but I tied the string tight. When I looked up, Alex was already in jeans, pulling a hoodie over his head. He checked his phone again.

“Practice,” he muttered to himself, then glanced at me. “You good to leave? I can call you a cab.”

That was it. No “are you okay?” No “last night was a mistake but I’m here if you need to talk.” Just… a cab.

Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. “I can’t believe I did this,” I whispered. “I ruined everything. Lucas, Julian, my own life… all in one night.”

Alex paused near the door. For a second I thought he might say something kind. Instead he exhaled through his nose, looking slightly impatient.

“Look, Emily. We were drunk. You were hurting. Shit happens.” He shrugged again. “Don’t overthink it. It was one night. Move on.”

His cold words cut deeper than anything. I felt cheap. Used. Like I was just another girl on his long list. The quiet painter girl who threw herself at the campus playboy and got exactly what she deserved.

My phone started ringing on the nightstand. The sound made me jump. I grabbed it with trembling fingers.

Julian’s name flashed on the screen.

“Oh no…” I whispered.

Alex looked over, his expression hardening. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Handle your brother. And don’t make this weird.”

I stared at the ringing phone, my stomach twisting into knots. Julian’s cheerful voice would be on the other end, completely clueless that I had spent the night in his best friend’s bed. Completely clueless that I had given my virginity to the one person he would never expect.

I let the call go to voicemail. I couldn’t speak to him right now. Not while I was still wrapped in Alex’s clothes, still smelling like him, still feeling the evidence of last night on my body.

Alex watched me silently for a moment. No sympathy in those gray eyes. Just that same detached look.

“I have to head out soon,” he said, grabbing his hockey bag. “Lock the door when you leave.”

He paused at the bedroom door, then added without turning around, “And Emily? Don’t catch feelings. I don’t do that.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

I sat there alone in his big, empty bed, wearing his clothes, tears streaming down my face. The reality of what I had done crashed over me like a wave. I had lost my virginity in a drunken haze to my brother’s best friend. A guy who didn’t even care enough to pretend he felt bad about it.

My phone buzzed again. A text from Julian.

Julian: Hey sis, heard you got pretty wasted last night. You okay? Want me to bring breakfast?