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“So the elephant is how much you want him?” Nia asked, all serious.

Oh God.

“Have youseenhis ass?” It came out plaintive. I was perhaps alittle drunk. “And… you think he’s proportionate? ’Cause then I’m already in awe of his dick. Also, I wanna lick tequila off his abs.”

“So do it,” Nia said. Like it was simple.

“But I shouldn’t.” I stared up at the pretty, pretty lanterns and their shimmery halos. “Right?”

“Why not?”

“Reasons.”

“Like?”

“Can’t remember.”

“So no reasons?”

Huh. Seemed logical. Felt wrong, but I mulled it over until something else popped up. I waved a fluttery hand at nothing. “Well, I can’t just say, ‘Oh, hey, wanna fuck?’”

“Why not?” Her tone was reasonable.

Good question. “It’s not very classy, is it?”

“Then suggest a nightcap. In his bedroom.”

“Why his?” Not that I was going anywhere. Yet. One should never assume.

“Because ours has thin walls.”

Fair. I frowned. “But he shares with Tom.”

“Separate bedrooms.”

“How do you know?”

“They’re rich kids who can stay for a month.” Nia took a sip. “Also, I asked Tom.”

“You have no shame.”

“Thank you.” Her smile was blurry. Then again, so was the world. Maybe it was time to call it a night.

Man. Tomorrow was going tohurt.

All mornings sucked,but some sucked more than others.

Nia was already gone when I dragged myself under the pitiful sputter of our shower. God, that last drink had been a mistake. The last three had been a mistake. My stomach was plotting a hostiletakeover, my tongue like sandpaper. A few scant sun rays filtered through our grimy bathroom window and shone a painful spotlight on my life choices.Never again.

Some ten minutes later, I stumbled down the stairs with the grace of a drunken giraffe, each step a jolt to my brain. Just a matter of time until the painkiller would kick in, though. The dive shop greeted me with its familiar, weathered charm. Outside, Logan was stretched out on a bench, eyes closed.

Come again?

“Unh?” I croaked. Words of a poet, looks of a zombie.

Logan sat up, took one look at me, and grinned. Too bright, Christ. “Well, aren’tyoujust a sight for sore eyes?”

“F’k off. You’re early.” I scrubbed a hand down my face, and no, this wasn’t how I usually talked to guests. But mornings were evil. Add a hangover, and I simply couldn’t be held accountable for anything that came out of my mouth. Also, something about Logan short-circuited my polite-responses-only mode.