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CHAPTERTWENTY
Stella
Fuck my life.
My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth when I come around to the sound of a fucking marching band inside my brain.
I groan, attempting to shift my body, but it’s sunk into the most comfortable bed I think I’ve ever slept on.
Loud snoring from somewhere else in the room fills my ears, forcing memories from the night before to come back to me.
None of them make me feel any better.
Oh God.
“Morning, Princess,” a deep, rough voice says from beside me.
My stomach bottoms out. Who the hell am I in bed with, and how the hell did I get here?
The last thing I remember was messing about with Theo and Alex. There was dancing, kissing, grinding, weed and vodka. God, there was so much vodka.
I suck in a deep breath before cracking an eye open.
Theo’s face appears in front of me, and I groan when I lower my gaze and find him on top of the bed in nothing but a pair of boxers.
Please don’t tell me I went there. Please.
“How are you feeling, beautiful?”
“Exactly as I deserve. Does Nico have any painkillers?”
“Check the bedside table.” He flicks a look behind me, and I muster up as much energy as I can manage to turn around.
I almost sigh in relief when I find a glass of water and a packet of pills waiting for me. Someone was organised. Or saw what a fucking mess I was last night.
It’s all his fault. If he’d have just kissed me…
Thoughts of him have me looking around the room. He’s here, I know he is. My skin tingles with awareness.
I find Nico passed out on the floor with a half-naked girl on either side. Alex is curled up on the pool table, an empty bottle of vodka still in his hand.
I keep searching, my eyes squinting against the sun that’s streaming through the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows I didn’t see the night before.
I gasp the second I find him.
He’s sitting on the couch in the exact same place I remember him watching me from last night. He’s resting back, his legs spread, and instead of a bottle of vodka, he’s got a bottle of water hanging from his fingers. But his eyes, just like last night, are trained right on me.
I swallow nervously as images of my behavior flick through my mind like a movie.
I shift on the bed and my thigh stings as I do so.
What the…
My knife. The bathroom. His initials.
Jesus, how many regrets can one person possibly have from just a few short hours?
I need to get out of here.
