Page 4 of Starlight Salon
I huff and walk straight. Towards Lachlan. He better have a good explanation.
2
Lachlan
A knock spears through my foggy half-asleep state and I groan. Why is it so loud? The pounding in my head agrees with me by throbbing harshly, while my brain sloshes around, bouncing in my head. Can it bounce if I’m not moving?
The rapid pounding comes again.
On second thought, it might be the door and not my head. Or is it both?
“Lachlan.”
I frown and moan into the pillow when the movement pulls at my too tight skin.
“Lachlan.”
It’s a woman’s voice, which is confusing since I don’t have a sister or a girlfriend. Unfortunately.
Am I dreaming?
“Are you alive? Dom’s worried because you aren’t responding to his texts.”
I drag my head to the side and see my uncharged phone on the floor. Right. It died last night because it hurt too much to move my decrepit body and put it in the charger.
Who am I kidding? It could’ve been the night before.
What’s Dom worried about?
The knocks are getting louder the longer it takes for me to reply.
“Coming,” I call out, my voice rough and husky. My throat protests the word and I cough, hacking the little life out of me.
She must not hear me because she keeps banging on the door. Each time she knocks, it echoes through my skull.
God, I hate being sick.
I yank the door open and the woman’s hand jerks back before she hits me instead of the door. Not that anything could make me feel worse right now.
“Lachlan?”
I nod, incapable of words.
It’s Chloe.
Of all the people banging on my door at god knows what time, forcing me to drag my half-dead body to the door, I didn’t think it would be her.
“Well, I’m glad you’re alive. Dom was worried and asked me to check on you. He’s stuck at the bar.” She looks me up and down, cheeks flushing as she scans my bare chest and averts her gaze from my boxes.
If I had the energy, I’d be embarrassed she’s seeing me like this. At least I’m not wearing the spanner boxers I received as a gag-gift last Christmas. They’re in the wash…again.
“Wanna tell me why you didn’t show up to fix my water?” She sounds annoyed, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
My eyes fixate on her hair. It’s pinned up with something, and there are swoopy bits in the front now.
“You changed your hair.” Her greenish eyes widen before narrowing at me as I sway forward and grab the door for balance. “It’s pretty.” Her cheeks flush deeper and she holds her hands up as if she’s about to touch me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she glances at the stairs and heaves a sigh, steps inside my flat, and closes the door with a click.
“You’re sick. You need to lie down,” she commands, herding me to the lounge with her hands held in a surrender action.