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Gripping the side of my head, I vow to never drink this much again.
How did I even get to the bed last night? I don’t remember much after we decided to open the second bottle of Patron. Tristan was worse off than me; he passed out early with his mouth wide open. Or was that Aaron? No, Aaron went up before Tristan passed out and didn’t drink like the two of us. He is always in control. I’ve only ever seen him let loose maybe twice.
The remainder of the night is a hazy blur. I must have stumbled my way to the couch before opting to crash in the guest room. I made a point to avoid passing out beside Tristan, given that the last time it happened, I woke up with his arm wrapped around my chest and him drooling on my shirt.
I run my hand through my hair, groaning as my stomach twists and turns. My mouth feels drier than a sand box. I need some water…and aspirin, then I’m headed straight to the elevator. I need to get out of here before I run into Zoe this morning.
I can’t believe my first day off in a long time is going to be marred by a hangover. Once I stop feeling like death warmed over, maybe I’ll hit the ice. That’s the one place I can rely on to help me feel like myself, where I can shut down my racing thoughts and fully exist in the present. The moment my blades hit the cold ice, everything else fades away.
It’s just me and the ice, locked in laser-focused harmony.
The smell of coffee and the blinding sun greet me before I step past the tall archway leading to the open-concept living room. I squint, raising my arm to cover my face from the scorching sun. My head pounds harder, and I groan, cursing myself for the hundredth time. An entire condo of glass is not ideal for the type of morning I’m having.
Goddammit.
Aaron is sitting at the island, typing furiously, perched behind his laptop. He has his reading glasses on and wearing what he considers house clothes. Which, for most people, would be fancy dinner-date attire. He doesn’t look up at me as I make my way over to his butler’s pantry, which is the equivalent of a small coffee shop.
“About damn time you decided to join the world of the living,” Aaron remarks in a monotone voice, and I stick my middle finger in the air without turning to face him. He chuckles, but when I turn, he’s not even looking at me. His fingers are moving swiftly across his silent keyboard. The man looks like he got his full eight hours of sleep. I would bet my left nut that he even went for a workout this morning.
“How are you not hungover? I feel like a zombie this morning.”
“It’s almost noon.”
Shit, I slept all morning?
“This is all your fault.” Pressing the button on Aaron’s fancy coffee maker, I lean my back against the counter and bury my face in my hands.
“Sure. Blame me. I wasn’t the one who drank tequila like it was water.” Aaron stands and makes his way over to a cupboard. He pulls out a bottle of extra-strength aspirin. He fills up a glass with water and approaches me.
“You’re an asshole, but I love you,” I mutter, grabbing his offerings and popping the pills in my mouth as I down the entire glass in one go.
“What crawled up your ass last night?”
“Nothing.”
“Is it work?”
“No.”
“A girl?”
“Yeah, right,” I say and we both chuckle.
“Yeah…heaven forbid you actually let someone in. If I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you swing for the other team.”
“Shut up. You know I don’t do relationships.” I press my thumbs to my temples, praying to God this conversation will end soon. If it wasn’t for the coffee, I would have walked out already.
“And why is that? I’ve known you forever, and no one has ever broken your heart. Not like you have PTSD from previous relationships. Why are you so scared of commitment?”
If only he knew.
“Can’t break a heart when I don’t have one.”
Aaron snorts. “We both know that’s not it. Is it because of your acquired tastes?”
“Stop trying to read me.”
Aaron rolls his eyes, not giving me the time of day as he walks back to his laptop.
