**Note: Hey, sorry, this is going to be a short chapter. I felt really bad for taking so long to write that I wanted to get out another chapter quickly. The next will be longer. I can't say for sure when I'll be able to write that one, only because work and school is kicking my butt. But if there's anyone out there still interested, I want you to know I haven't forgotten about this.

Chapter 11

Hannah pulled the blanket over her head as the morning sun peeked through the blinds, creating slivers of light on her face. Even with her eyes closed it burned, coloring her eyelids with red and orange hues.

But it wasn't just the light that caused her injury. It was her head. A sharp pain struck down her temples and the sides of her nose like lightning. With her head on the pillow she could hear the pulsating throbs gently lift her head off the pillow over and over again. It was as if she could hear feel her heartbeat and blood pounding through the pillow. Closing her eyes completely was to painful, so she opened her eyes just wide enough for her eyelashes to blur any objects nearby. This was no ordinary headache. Why did she feel this way? What could have possibly given her such a wicked head-

Hannah suddenly pushed herself off the pillow and her eyes darted around the room. She looked at the stiff bed she was in, at the walls with peeling wallpaper and the faux wood dresser with scratches along the drawers. Where am I? she thought, fear and adrenaline now taking over. For a moment she had forgotten she was in pain. She was in a fight or flight situation. In a stranger's room. In a stranger's bed.

She desperately sifted through her spotty memories of the previous night, searching for a reason why she would not be at home in her own warm bed. The game-they'd lost that. Her empty house cloaked in darkness. The blister on her heel. The party-loud, conversation she couldn't make out and drinks from red cups that burned like liquid fire in her throat. The clearing-gravel and weeds digging into her legs as she sat on the ground. Headlights blinding her.

"Tim," she murmured, her voice hoarse.

Had he left her there or had he taken her somewhere? There were tears, so many tears last night. Her throat ached as if she had cried enough to fill a swimming pool. But he was there for that, wasn't he? He saw her fall apart. He must have. She remembered yelling and sobbing and running, all the while bathed in the headlights of his pickup truck.

Hannah took another look around the room, this time carefully examining the finer details. A helmet on the nightstand. Heavy boots covered in dirt thrown off to the side of the bed. A clump of plaid sticking out beneath the mattress frame.

And a distinct smell...Bacon? Yes, it was definitely the smell of crackling, greasy, crispy, smoky bacon outside the room.

She unwrapped herself from her cocoon of blankets. She wasn't wearing pants. But her bra appeared to still be on under her shirt. Hannah poked her head under the bed and found what appeared to be women's jeans. Please let them be mine, she thought.

It was a success. She pulled the jeans up by the belt loops. No hair tie was in sight-not that she expected as much. She vigorously rubbed under her eyes to get rid of any residue from the previous night's makeup. If this was Tim's house, she didn't want to look too frightening. She used her fingers to comb through her thick hair, though they were continuously trapped in tangles of knots.

After a few more attempts to make herself look somewhat presentable, Hannah opened the bedroom door and peered out. The aroma of bacon once again clouded all of her other senses, but it had become stronger. She heard the clanging of kitchen pans and faint whistling coming from the same direction. Hannah took a deep breath-and quickly regretted it from the smell of alcohol-and stepped out to find the source of the noise.

She was welcomed by the sight of familiar broad shoulders and long hair facing away from her. He was whistling some tune he'd clearly made up. He reached over to grab a set of kitchen tongs and used them to place pieces of bacon onto a plate.

"Hey," she said quietly.

The boy spun around and dropped his tongs on the floor. He tried to hide his shock, but his eyes had momentarily filled with terror. That quickly dissolved and was replaced by a warmth Hannah had never seen from them. They crinkled at the edges as he smiled.

"Christ, you scared the livin' daylights out of me."

"Sorry," she said, taking a few steps closer.

Tim picked the tongs off the floor and threw them in the sink. "I thought you'd want somethin' greasy this morning."

Hannah said nothing, still unsure of what was happening. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"You know," he said, "since you drank all of Texas' liquor last night."

The memories came back and so did the sharp pains in her temples and brow. She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. "Ugh," she groaned.

"I figured as much. I got some medicine in that cabinet over there that might help." He nodded to the set of cabinets to his left.

Hannah walked in that direction in search of a pain reliever. "So…" she began. "I stayed the night. In your bed." She trailed off at the end, avoiding his gaze.

She could hear the amusement in his voice when he answered. "You're a real detective."

It was then that she met his eyes with hers, and she narrowed them. "Tim, my pants were...not on my body. Why is that?"

He shrugged. "You tell me. You kept flailin' your legs around whinin' 'I can't get them off. They're too tight. Take them off.'"

"And did you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He turned away from her. "Ya know, usually when I take a girl's pants off, it's for a different kind of activity in bed."

Hannah felt the heat rise from her neck, to her ears, until they reached her cheeks. She prayed he couldn't see any change in color.

"So, you mean we-"

He cut her off. "-did the deed."

Her heart dropped to her stomach. "What?" Her voice was barely audible.

She didn't feel any different. Shouldn't she feel different after that sort of thing? That's what she'd always heard. But why last night? Why would she do that? This was what she got for breaking the rules. And this was one thing she could never get back.

"Before you go on with that silent meltdown over there, I was just kiddin'. You fell asleep. I guess I'm not the only one who likes to take my clothes off before bed." Tim smirked, and Hannah saw a wicked glint in his eyes.

"You. Son. Of. A Bitch."

"Aw, come on, Hannah. You really I'd do somethin' like that? Between you and me, I like my girls to be conscious before I sleep with them. But that's just me." He waited for her to resond, but she only glared at him, mentally shooting daggers at his stupid, handsome, stupid face. "Cheer up. I made bacon."

"Like that fixes everything," she scoffed.

"It does." He walked over to her, getting close enough that she had to crane her neck to look up at him.

The closeness in proximity was becoming too much, and she felt the beating of her heart begin to pick up pace. Flashes of the previous night crossed her mind. Had she kissed him? Had they actually done that or was that some weird fever dream?

"Open your mouth," he said.

The commanding tone of his voice surprised her, and she sucked in a breath. "What-"

He cut her off, jamming a hot piece of bacon in her mouth. Then he put a second piece in his own and smiled again as he chewed.

"Good, right?"

Hannah was still off-balance from the exchange, and was confused at her body's response to it. She couldn't understand what had just happened, but one thing was for sure. She was angry with his trick.

"Give me some space, will you?" she retorted, sidestepping him and making her way to a nearby chair.

As if he could read her thoughts, Tim moved closer to her again. He knelt down beside her and stared at her while he licked his lips.

"I don't think it's space you want, Hannah." He waggled his eyebrows at her and bit off another piece of bacon.

Something was burning in the pit of her stomach. It engorged her veins as she looked into his eyes. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

"At least not from me...Maybe from home, I guess…" he trailed off. Hannah's face fell, and the burning was extinguished just as fast as it had come. "Sorry, I'm not so good with talkin' about stuff like that. But I'll try."

Hannah turned away from him, leaned back in the chair, and closed her eyes. "It's fine. I don't really feel like talking about it right now."

"Well, you should talk to someone about it. I bet Mrs. Taylor would be a good choice. You oughta go to her. The Taylors always know what to say."

"Yeah, maybe."

"So, listen, Hannah…" He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked...nervous? "About last night. You know what I'm talkin' about, right?"

She felt her cheeks and neck grow hot. "Um…"

"I think we maybe had one too many drinks. I shouldn't have come at you like that. So, sorry about that."

Sorry? He regrets it, she thought. "It's-it's okay." She said quietly. "I didn't feel taken advantage of, if that's what you mean."

"You were pretty drunk. Feel kind of bad about that." They sat in silence for a moment, until he finally broke it. "Anyway, I told Julie you were here. I think she and Matt are gonna come pick you up later, unless you'd like me to drop you off now."

"Oh," she said. "I can...I can get my stuff and head out. I'll let Julie know."

Hannah stood and began making her way back to the bedroom. As she walked away from him, she tried her best to keep her composure. She could not let him see this. She could not let him see that he got to her. That any of this mattered at all.

…

The ride to Julie's house was a quiet one. Tim kept the radio on low and faced forward. Hannah felt him glance at her once or twice, but she made no attempt to return his gaze. Her goal was to appear aloof. Instead, she stared out the window and let the hot breeze cloak her face. There was a faint smell of manure in air, but no cows or horses in sight.

When Tim eventually pulled up the Taylors' driveway, Hannah had already gathered all her belongings under her arm and removed her seatbelt.

"Thanks," she muttered, and hopped out of the truck.

But before she could close the door, he interrupted. "Hannah." She looked at him. His expression was unreadable. But he paused, considering his words carefully. She was almost about to give up and close the door when he finally said, "I'm not good for you, you know."

Her eyebrows knitted together and she opened her mouth to speak. But Tim lifted his hand and gave a small wave.

"See ya for tutoring." And he turned away from her and cranked up the volume of the radio.

She let the door slip from her grip, and the angle of the driveway caused it to close on its own. She stared at him, mouth slightly parted.

And then he backed out of the driveway and drove off. Hannah watched until she could no longer see his brown hair flickering in the wind.