I specifically told myselfnotto do that.
Repeatedly.
He was off limits.
No more fuckboys, I said.
You know better than that, I thought.
The worst part?
I know it was good—great even, if the ache between my legs and teeth marks on my neck are any indication.
And I can’tfuckingremember it.
Honestly, it’s just rude.
Despite my best efforts, the shower does not lead to my demise, but it does wash the smell of him off of me. And by thetime I return to my room, my Killian-soaked sheets have been picked up by the laundry service. So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.
After making my bed with the spare sheets in the bottom of the wardrobe, I faceplant into the pillow and seriously rethink my life choices. I can practically hear the universe laughing at me in some cosmic impression of Nelson Muntz.
Fuck, nope. That’s just my phone vibrating.
Ramsey Mondragon
want to get lunch?
I start typing out a response:I want to crawl into a hole and sleep for three weeks.
Nope. Can’t send that. Delete.
Nyx Byrke
12:30?
His response comes before I can flip my phone back over.
Ramsey Mondragon
sounds good
Okay cool, that gives me at couple hours to wallow. Or maybe just go back to sleep. I can work with that.
Three hours later, Ramsey can barely contain his laughter when I rest my forehead on the cool table, trying not to puke from the walk to the Great Hall.
“You might just give me a run for the grumpiest asshole in this place.” I roll my forehead to look at him, cheek flattened against the hard surface.
“You’re lucky I can’t eat you.”
He loses the battle and laughs outright, sliding a loaded tray piled with food at me, which I promptly push back.
“Grease is good for you,” he says, pushing it towards me again .
“What is this, fucking ping pong?” I groan and close my eyes.
“Eat,” the deep sibilant voice commands.
Clearly I’m still drunk, because even though I’ve come to know and kind of even maybe like the Moratus dragon, I still talk back. “Have you never been hungover before?”
