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Quinn
I groanas I roll over in bed the next morning. I’m not really a drinker, but when I got home last night, it just seemed like a good idea.
What started as me just needing some liquid courage to work up the nerve to call him and tell him about my plan kind of got away from me. By the time I actually did call, I was a little more than tipsy.
Still, when I wake up the next morning, the first thing I think about is him and our phone call last night.
He didn’t outright tell me no or laugh in my face. That has to be a good sign, right?
I chew on my bottom lip as I debate if I should call him again now or wait until later. I still think it’s a good idea, but I’m not feeling as confident this morning as I was last night.
Maybe that will change once I get rid of this pounding headache.
I find the courage to crawl out of bed and head into the bathroom. I spend my time in the shower trying not to throw up. When I stumble out of the shower and get a look at my reflection, I feel like heading back to bed.
I’m so pale that I look like death. Dark circles are under my eyes, and I sigh as I splash some cold water on my face.
Maybe going back to bed isn’t a bad idea. It’s not like I have anything else going on today.
I need to get more pictures for my blog. I’ve been trying to find unique and trendy spots to feature in the area since I don’t feel comfortable traveling solo just yet.
I had planned to go down to Chinatown to look around with my camera, but being anywhere near the sun right now seems like a terrible idea.
I crash back down onto the mattress, wrapping the blanket around my naked body as I burrow under the pillows.
“That’s better.”
My eyes close, and I’m planning on sleeping off this hangover when my phone rings.
Maybe it’s Rhett.
“Ugh,” I growl when I see my mom’s name on the screen instead.
I can’t deal with her right now so I let it go to voicemail and try to go back to sleep. When she calls again, I give up and hit ignore, dialing Rhett’s number instead.
“Morning,” he says, and he sounds so fresh and hot.
“Hi,” I croak out.
I clear my throat, but I don’t think that it will help much. I need about a gallon of coffee and a few more hours of sleep to sound human again.
“How are you feeling?” He asks.
“I’m never drinking again.”
“That’s what they all say,” he says with a laugh.
“I remember,” I blurt out, and his laugh cuts off.
“Can you meet me for coffee? This feels like a conversation that we should have in person.”
“Go outside?” I whine, and he cracks up.
“I know it’s hard, but there will be coffee there. Nice, hot coffee,” he tempts me, and I sigh.
“Fine. I’ll get dressed and brave the outside.”
“I’m honored,” he tells me.
