Okay. Definitely too much prosecco.
And tequila shots.
Why had I thought shots were a good idea?
I waited for the room to stop spinning again before I dared crack an eye open to take in my surroundings.
I was in my bedroom. Still fully dressed, under a throw blanket.
On my bedside table was a glass of water and two Tylenol.
Preston.
A vague memory of him bringing me home from the bar took shape in my head, fuzzy at first and then solidifying with a clarity that made me groan and squeeze my eyes shut again for an entirely different and mortifying reason.
Given the amount of alcohol I’d consumed, it was a miracle I could remember anything at all, let alone every excruciatingly embarrassing detail.
The bar. The stupid sash over my chest. Dancing too close. His hands on my waist and the way that had made me feel. The empty feeling when he stepped back.
I slapped both hands to my face and dragged them down. “You’re such an idiot, Jess.”
I rememberedeverything.
And somehow that felt way worse than not remembering anything at all.
Because there was no way I could forget the ache in my chest when I’d told him things that I hadn’t even admitted to myself yet.
And the worst part wasn’t even that I’d said them.
It was that if I let myself believe them now, everything I was trying to hold together would fall apart.
God.
I reached for the pills and swallowed them down with a gulp of water before reaching for my phone, which Preston had thoughtfully plugged in on the bedside table.
The screen lit up with a series of missed texts.
Just Us Girls
Charli:
Are you alive?
Harper:
Wow. So much tequila, Jess. I should probably be impressed.
Kat:
I am impressed.
Charli:
I’ll be impressed when I hear she’s not dead.
Kat:
Truth.
