“No, just listening.” She rubs the running mascara away from her eyes. “Oh, look, we’re here.”
Brooke stares at Kira, floored. “I clearly did not spend enough time talking to you.”
Kira giggles conspiratorially as the limo driver opens the car door. “That’s a story for another girls’ night, I guess.” She climbs out.
“Too bad we leave tomorrow,” Brooke voices. “Or, well,” she considers, “later today.”
“I wish you all the love and happiness in the world.” Kira hugs Brooke. She’s a little wobbly on her feet, but she manages. “Thank you for letting us crash your bachelorette party. I really needed this.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I threw up on your friend’s shoe.”
My head whips around to Brooke. “Is that what happened to the other one?” The night is a tad bit fuzzy.
Brooke makes a guilty face. “I felt much better afterwards.”
“Then the sacrifice was worth it. They were my sister's shoes anyway.”
Whoops, sorry, Shyla.
Kira and I say our goodbyes to the groups before stumbling over to the elevators; the other bunch of crazies are headed to the bar for mimosas.
I just want a bed and a day’s worth of sleep.
“Are you crashing in my room?” I ask Kira.
“No,” she hums. “I’m going to face the music. Apologize profusely and then hopefully seduce Ky before I pass out.”
“That sounds like a solid plan.” I nod as I use the wall of the elevator for support.
“I think so,” Kira agrees.
We stop on my floor first. “You sure you’re good from here?”
Kira gives me the thumbs up. “No place to go but the penthouse.”
“Fancy.” I step out into the hallway.
“Don’t you know? I’m fabulous, bitch.” Kira smiles at me as the doors slide closed.
I think I have a new girl crush. She is fucking fabulous, and fun, and sweet as can be.
Once inside my hotel room, I face plant onto the mattress, clothes and all.
Goodnight, sweetheart.
A loud bang on the door disrupts my sleep.
“Go away,” I mumble into the pillow.
They don’t go away; they knock again.
Motherfucker.I force myself up to answer the door. I swing it open to find none other than Damon standing on the other side.
“What do you want?”
“You,” he frankly states.
“Damon, I can’t do this.”
