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Argh. My roommate might have twisted my arm to attend, but she certainly didn’t force me to drink to excess.
Exactly how many did I have?
Three?
Four?
Good lord…five?
How do people party like this every weekend?
Here’s what I know—I’m never drinking again.
Ever.
One and done.
Painkillers and water.
That’s exactly what I need.
Unfortunately, that requires me to open both eyes and vacate the comfort of my bed. For a minute or two, I consider staying put, but the pressure building in my bladder tells me that won’t be an option for long.
I release a slow breath and come to grips with the fact that I’ll have to be vertical for a short period of time before nose diving back into bed.
Possibly for the rest of the day.
It takes at least thirty seconds before I’m able to pry my eyelids open. It feels like they’re cemented shut.
Sure, I had a good time last night…
I think.
More memories slowly continue to surface.
Although, it certainly wasn’t good enough to endure this kind of fresh hell.
I glance around the bedroom and draw in another deep breath. My belly feels like it’s on a roller coaster.
And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s roller coasters.
My parents talked me into riding one when I was twelve years old. I was so sick afterward that I threw up in the garbage can as soon as I staggered off the ride. To this day, Mav enjoys bringing it up. Of course, Ryder was there to bear witness to my utter humiliation. The guy always seems to be around when I’m at my lowest.
That’s exactly what the roiling in my gut reminds me of. I really hope I don’t toss my cookies. Talk about a cherry on top of an already shit sundae.
It takes effort to heave myself into a seated position and tentatively swing my legs over the side of the mattress. Just as I’m about to sprint to the bathroom, I catch sight of a large figure sprawled out in the chair tucked in the corner and freeze.
What the…
I lift my hands to rub my eyes.
Oh god…am I hallucinating?
Did I actually drink that much?
Because there is no way Ryder McAdams is passed out in my room.
What the hell is he doing here?
