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Chapter 3
Jasmine
Abuzzing sound wakes me, but my head hurts too much to open my eyes.After I slap at my phone screen several times, the noise stops.Then a pounding sound starts, one that isn’t inside my head.
I can’t figure out what to slap to make everything quiet again.
My phone buzzes again, and I open one eye and swipe to answer.“Hey, Ingrid.I’m mad at you.”
“Mad at me?Where’s my car?”Her voice is too loud.Shrill.
I squeeze my eyes closed.“Please whisper.I think someone slipped something into my drink last night.”
“More likely you started drinking and had too much.Wake up.”
Slapping her like I did my phone won’t do any good now.I’m already awake.
“Please be quiet.My head feels like it’s about to explode.”I roll out of bed, happy to see that I’m still in my pink dress.Good news considering I don’t remember much of anything after Ingrid left with Mullet Man.
She crosses her arms as I step out of the bedroom.“First, where’s my car?And second,youare cleaning up that mess.”She points toward the front door.
“Mess?”I trudge down the hall, keeping one hand on the wall.
My previously sorted bottle caps are scattered all over the floor near the front door.And the tray they were in is leaning against a table leg.It took me forever to sort those by color.That’s a lot of hours down the drain.
Ingrid’s shrill laugh feels like an icepick being shoved into my brain.
“You must’ve had a wild night.Who was he?”
“I’m not the one who left with skunk boy.”I’m thankful I remember at least a little of the party.
Ingrid’s jaw falls open.“That was a skunk?I thought it was a long-haired cat.”
“You werereallydrunk.”And I’m the one with the hangover.That’s not fair at all.
She looks like she’s spent the morning at the spa.After flipping her hair over her shoulder, she rolls her eyes.“Not too drunk to know that any guy who kisses a pig isn’t for me.That little beast licked him full on the mouth, and then he wanted me to kiss that same mouth.No thank you.”She taps her phone screen.“And I know you had some fun.Your text said a cowboy with a pretty face was taking you home.”
“I sent that?”I race back to my bedroom and lunge for my phone.
One glance verifies her story.Just after midnight, I texted Ingrid those very words.
She stands in the doorway and makes a show of looking around.“So where is he?”
“He didn’t stay.”I’m angry at whatever or whoever robbed me of my memory.This isn’t normal, and I know I didn’t have any alcohol.Staring at my shoes on the floor beside my bed, I try to reconstruct my night.Only glimpses come back.My head started to feel fuzzy, and I worried someone had slipped me something.I remember the panicked feeling I tried to hide so that I wouldn’t seem vulnerable.And there was a guy, someone who made me feel safe.Rubbing my temples, I close my eyes, begging my brain to conjure an image of the cowboy with the pretty face.“Nothing happened with him.”
“Are you sure?You seem like you can’t remember much.”She points at the side of my head.“Where’s your earring?”
“Probably lost in my covers somewhere.And yes, I’m sure.”Then I remember that Ingrid lives here too.“When did you get home?And how did you get in?”
She rolls her eyes.“Nice of you to think of that now.I knocked and knocked, but finally, I went around back and found the back door unlocked.You must’ve been completely wasted.”
I’m glad Ingrid made it inside.I’m also glad we won’t be roommates much longer.
The fact that I can’t remember last night terrifies me, but I’m grateful for the stranger who got me home safely.I owe the man a huge thanks.Problem is, I have no idea who he is or where to find him.He could knock at my front door, and I wouldn’t recognize him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t hear you knocking.”
Ingrid shrugs.“Fine.Now, where’s my car?”She clearly doesn’t believe that I didn’t drink myself into a stupor.
