I frowned at her. “I tried to cut you off at least three times last night. I had to haul your ass out of there by throwing you over my shoulder if you remember correctly.”
“I don't.” She let her hands fall away from her face. “I don't remember anything from last night.”
“You don't remember anything?” I asked, wondering if she remembered our dance or the shortest kiss known to man.
She took a deep breath as she thought about it. “I remember going to the bar and having dinner. I remember choking down a nasty beer and playing darts.” She rolled onto her side, facing me. “I remember hanging out with a group we met there and drinking. A lot. But everything else is just a blur. I’m trying to figure out what was real and what I dreamed.”
“Why don't you ask me if the things you remember really happened?”
She bit her bottom lip and hesitated for a moment. “Did I get up and dance with those girls?”
I grinned and nodded. “You did.”
Her face turned bright pink, and she covered it with her hands as she groaned.
“That's so embarrassing.”
I shrugged. “It could've been worse.”
“How?”
“It could've been on the bar or something.”
She laughed, but she cut it off almost immediately as her hand moved to her temples. “Ow. I have the worst headache ever. This is terrible. Why do people do this?”
“You had fun last night,” I reminded her.
“Wish I could remember it.” Her eyes popped open and locked with mine. “Did we dance together last night?”
I nodded. “We did.”
Her brows lifted, and her eyes glazed over like she was remembering more. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip before her eyes found mine again. “Did… Did we kiss?”
“If that's what you wanna call it. It only lasted for two seconds before you were throwing up.”
“Oh, gosh. I-I…” Her cheeks bloomed a brighter red. “Just so you know, one thing didn't have anything to do with the other.”
I chuckled and pushed the blanket back. “Good to know.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, watching me with her brows knitted together.
I turned back to look down at her. “I’m going to the bathroom. Then I figured I’d put some clothes on and go out and grab us some breakfast.”
“You don’t wanna talk about what happened?”
“What happened?” I asked, lifting my hand and letting it fall back to my side.
“We-We kissed.”
“You don’t even remember it.”
“I remember it,” she argued, her cheeks still red.
“Fine, let’s talk about it. You start.” I motioned toward her.
She pushed herself to sit up, but I noticed her face suddenly lose all color. Her hands moved to her head, and she fell back. “I feel awful.”
“And that’s why we don’t need to talk about it right now. You’ll feel better after you get a greasy breakfast,” I said, walking to the bathroom.
