If Our Love Is Wrong [BxB]

Chapter 12 - Unspoken Truths

The next morning dawned upon Jake like a haze, his senses dulled by the throbbing ache in his head—a relentless reminder of the excessive drinking from the night before. As he stirred from his slumber, memories from the previous night struggled to penetrate the fog of his mind. Images flickered in his consciousness like fragmented scenes from a dream he couldn't quite grasp.

Reaching out groggily for his phone, Jake's hand trembled slightly as he fought against the waves of nausea washing over him. His fingers brushed against the cool surface of the device, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he lifted it to eye level. Squinting through bleary eyes, he blinked away the remnants of sleep that clung stubbornly to his lashes.

A jolt of surprise coursed through him as he noticed a text message from Liam, time-stamped at an ungodly hour of the night. 3:30 am—what could Liam possibly have to say at such a late hour? Jake's brows furrowed in confusion as he tapped on the message, his curiosity piqued.

"I'm sorry," the text read, stark against the dim glow of the screen. Jake's confusion deepened. Why was Liam apologizing? What had transpired between them last night? The memories were elusive, slipping through his grasp like sand through clenched fists.

His mind raced, attempting to piece together the events of the previous evening. Flashes of laughter, clinking glasses, and hazy conversations danced at the edges of his consciousness, teasing him with their fleeting presence. And then, like a bolt of lightning illuminating the darkness, a fragment of memory emerged—a fleeting moment, etched in the recesses of his mind.

Liam's face, drawn close, his breath warm against Jake's skin. The brush of lips against lips—a kiss, soft yet electrifying in its intensity. Jake's heart skipped a beat as the memory flooded back, bringing with it a surge of conflicting emotions—bewilderment, desire, and a tinge of apprehension.

With a determined resolve, Jake hastily tapped out a reply to Liam's cryptic message: "We need to meet up and talk about this." The urgency in his response mirrored the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind.

Setting his phone aside with a weary sigh, he gingerly massaged his temples, attempting to alleviate the persistent ache that reverberated through his skull. The numbness persisted, a relentless reminder of the night's excesses.

Summoning his willpower, Jake rose from the dishevelled nest of blankets and clothes that adorned his bed, the fabric a testament to the chaos of the previous night's festivities. His movements were slow, deliberate, each step a battle against the persistent fog of his hangover.

Still clad in the remnants of his attire from the night before, Jake spared a moment to send a brief message to his worried mother, assuring her of his imminent return. With that task accomplished, he navigated through the minefield of slumbering bodies that littered the floor of his dorm room, their forms twisted in various states of disarray.

With each step down the creaking staircase, Jake's senses were assaulted by the harsh reality of the morning after. His phone buzzed incessantly in his hand, a reminder of the imminent arrival of his Uber. As he swung open the door, a gust of frigid air greeted him with an almost punishing force, slicing through the remnants of his alcohol-induced haze like a blade. The chill of the dawn air bit into his skin, leaving him momentarily stunned as he braced himself against the onslaught.

With a shiver, Jake stumbled out onto the dimly lit street, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. The world seemed to spin around him, the weight of his hangover pressing down on him with suffocating intensity. Every sound was amplified, every sensation magnified, as if the universe itself conspired to compound his misery.