“Is theassin badass considered a cuss word?” Sounds of her straining forced me to lower the volume on my phone.
“Shut the F-word up and tell me why you called. After these stupid squats, I’m going back to bed.”
My snort-laugh morphed into sobs as tears trickled down my cheeks. “I-I messed up, Sage. Big time.”
“Messed what up?” she asked, before muttering a sequential-squat countdown.
Explaining how I’d accidentally sent a diary entry out to thousands of followers felt surreal. Being a perfectionist, I’d always been one to double—triple—check my work. But, given I was drunker than a sailor lost in a vat of vodka, there’s no telling what I did that night.
After a winded gasp, Sage went all Captain Obvious. “Can’t you, like…delete it? I mean, after I’ve had a chance to read it, of course…”
“I need my laptop to delete it and seeing how I can’t even remember where I left it last night, I’m screwed.”
“Living room?”
“Checked. It’s not there.”
“Bathroom?”
“Not there either,” I told her, hopelessly. “And before you ask, I looked in the kitchen and dining room too.”
“WTF, Macy. Were youthateffingwasted?”
Armpits practically drenched, I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking in then releasing a few deep breaths. My ticker must have decided one-hundred-fifty beats per minute was the new resting heart rate. “Apparently. Besides, you know I’ve always been a lightweight. Shame on you and Chloe for letting me drink—”
“Two…Freaking…Cosmos, Macy,” she interrupted with an assumed eye roll. “You do realize you had onlytwodrinks,right?”
Only two?
Cradling my head, I whined, “They must have been pretty potent because it feels more like four.”
“Maybe itwasfour…or five? Anyway, what can I do to help?”
Typically, I never allowed anyone to touchConfessions of a Bookaholic.It was my baby, trusted in the hands of no one but me—the alcohol-free version, of course. Nonetheless, desperate times called for me to reach way outside my norm. Thankfully, Sage agreed to access my blog through her computer.
“Okay, I’ve got it. What’s your password?”
Heat slithered from my cheeks, straight up to my head, practically scorching my scalp. Given the circumstances, I was beyond embarrassed to reveal the blog’s log-in credentials. “Lucas Stone.”
“My goldfish could have guessed that.”
Audible tapping of her fingernails, drumming the keyboard, gifted my heart with enough reassurance to slow its erratic roll. Howbeit, freak-out nerves had me feeling antsy, so I got out of bed, then began to pace, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet in the center of my bedroom floor.
“Are you in yet?” I chewed my lower lip. “Scroll down to today’s date and click on it.”
Sage’s hushed reserve rallied the stampede of my heart palpitations all over again.
“Hello?”What the hell is she doing?“Sage? Are you there?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she singsonged nonchalantly.
God, I envied how laid-back the firecracker could be when there I was, yanking every follicle of my hair out.
I bit my nails, beats of time frozen while I waited with bated breath for her to tell me if she’d found the damn entry. “Well?” I whisper-shouted. “Did you find it or not?”
“Yep. Sure did. It says Dear Diary, Entry One.”
“Okay? Can you click on the link, please?”
