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More of the haze fades. “Says the guy who invited me to a bar. You wanted me to sit alone in a corner, sober?”
“Pretty sure there’s a happy medium between sober and tequila shots.”
“Pretty sure you haveno sayin my decisions.”
“Yeah, we’ve established you do whatever you want without considering other people, Piper.”
My blood burns.
I’m drunk on a lot more than the tequila I downed to forget where I’m stuck for the foreseeable future. I’m tipsy on Kyle and the reckless way he makes me feel.
I’m pissed. But it’s also a thrill, arguing with him.
“Like how you’re walking away from music for your fans? For your team? For your friends? If you’ve decided, why haven’t you told any of them?”
“For the thousandth time, it’snone of your fucking business.”
Kyle flicks the radio back on. Surprise, surprise, it does receive more than one station. But it’s playing another country song, and he turns up the volume until more conversation is impossible.
I shift as far away from him as possible and as close to the cool breeze coming through the window as I can manage.
As I stare out into the darkness, I retrace my list of mistakes tonight in my mind.
I shouldn’t have worn these shoes.
I shouldn’t have danced so much.
I shouldn’t have drunk so much.
Mistake, mistake, mistake.
And not a single one of them got me any closer to achieving the reason I’m here.
Success feels further away than ever.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
KYLE
Iwas hoping to wake up in a better mood than I had fallen asleep in.
No such luck. I’m still pissed.
I blow out a long breath and toss off the covers, sitting up on the side of the bed and running my fingers through my hair.
Last night was supposed to be fun. An escape from reality. A throwback to high school days and fake IDs before any of us had adult responsibilities.
Instead of enjoying myself, I was on edge the entire night.
And it’s completely Piper’s fault.
Even after I was convinced she wasn’t going to say anything about why she was really here, I couldn’t relax. I kept catching reminders of her—hearing her voice, seeing a flash of red hair, smelling her shampoo—and it was impossible to completely ignore her presence.
Then, she decided to get drunk.
Ihatebeing around drunk people. It dredges up far too many unpleasant memories I work hard to keep buried. And she was planning to drive herself, which makes me even more furious. I wouldn’t have allowed her to get behind the wheel, obviously, but it still infuriates me. She’s an adult woman, and I’m not her goddamn babysitter.
Most of all, I’m mad she distracted me. Mad I noticed the shots and the dancing and the guys looking at her. I’m not used to having my attention split when I go somewhere; it’s never happened to me before.
