She sits up, nose scrunched. “What areyougonna wear?”
“Blue,” I tell her. “Because my favorite martini is water.”
Renee snorts—adorable—then stabilizes herself on the edge of the bed, suddenly droopy eyed and serious. “I’m sorry about…the dress…themes,” she fumbles out. “The dress…costumes. I just…it’s just fun.” She swallows hard, her soft blue eyes blinking in and out of focus. “I think I might need some…of your favorite martini.”
A laugh fires out of me. Renee might be funnier than I thought. She topples back and starfishes across the bed, and in the time it takes me to fill a cup from the sink, she’s asleep. I leave the cup on the bedside table and take the first shift in the shower. Tonight’s look—and most of my clothes for the weekend—comes courtesy of Village Thrift. It’s a cobalt-blue sheath dress that skims my shins, and with silver sneakers, I am…well, a tall drink of water.
When I come out, all dressed, Renee is awake again, holding a now-empty water cup and seemingly a bit more in control of herself. I, too, am looking for a bit of self-control. The longer Renee sits on that bed in her bikini, the tougher it gets not to stare at her boobs.
“Hey,” Renee says, no longer slurring, but softer than usual. “Gin told me about the dress.”
I pinch my collar. “This dress?”
“Her engagement-party dress. How she spilled wine on it and you switched with her.” She bites her lip. “That was…really cool of you.”
My heart loosens its grip. “It was her day. I was just trying to help.” My gaze shifts to the empty cup. “Can I refill your water?”
Renee nods and hands off the cup. “Thanks.” When I bring it back, she blows a raspberry. “You’re being so nice to me,” she complains.
“Do you want me to start being meaner?”
“Nooooo.”
“Are you sure? I’ve stockpiled plenty of insults. You’ve given me a ton to work with.”
She swats one limp hand like she’s batting away a bug, spilling her entire cup of water in the process. I fill it up again, and Renee glugs it down, then pounds a fist against her chest, coughing twice. “I’m…sorry that I’m kinda drunk right now.”
“It’s a bachelorette party,” I remind her. “You’re supposed to be drunk.”
“I know, I know. I just feel weird about it because you’re not drunk. You won’t be drunk. All weekend. I don’t think.” She squints at me. “Will you be?”
“I will not.”
“That’s what I thought, but…I didn’t even…I didn’t drink that much.” Her head turns before her eyes do, and she peels a wet strand of hair out of her eyes. “It’s just…sohot out there.”
“Which is why we’re drinking water,” I remind her, but it comes out a bit infantilizing, and she rolls her eyes. I deserve that.
I refill Renee’s water one last time, filling a cup for myself too.I toss it back like a shot, and Renee makes a pinched sound, something adjacent to a laugh.
“You still got it in you,” she says.
“Huh? Oh, you mean…” I mime taking a shot with my empty cup. “Only with water these days. Or espresso.” I check the time on my phone. “You should shower. We’ve got dinner in thirty minutes.”
Renee sits forward, holding my gaze for a moment longer than I expect. “You read the itinerary,” she says in a light, airy voice that borders on impressed. It’s likely just the booze, but I’ll take what I can get.
“I read the itinerary,” I confirm. “Now c’mon. Half hour. And you better not make me late.”
Nine
My alarm chimes at 5:00 a.m., launching me into pure panic.
Where am I? Whose bed am I in? Did the tour van leave without me?
My eyes shoot open, heart stepping on the gas. Some dormant neural pathway has sparked to life and thrust me back in time. I’m fresh off my breakup with Gin. On tour with Cold Sweat. In a stranger’s bed. And another. New city. New stranger. I’m late. I’m still drunk, waking up beside a woman whose name I don’t know.
No.
Breathe.
