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“Your friends ordered you to come help me, then?”
One long leg shifts in my direction, the tight material of his jeans cupping his thigh as it strains with the movement. I tighten my jaw, annoyed with myself for noticing that.
“Let’s chuff it up to a moment of weakness,” he snaps, not coming any closer than that single step. “Won’t happen again, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that!” I demand, but he’s already walking away again, this time quicker than before.
I watch as he drops the tray of drinks on my table and mutters something to the two women that has them glancing my way before he’s stalking away again. He doesn’t go back to his table. No, he blows right past it and leaves the bar entirely.
Bryce offers me a sympathetic smile, but I’m already reaching for one of the three shot glasses and lifting it to my lips. The tequila burns the entire way down.
Hate at first sight.
How romantic.
10
ANNALISE
My mouth is dry.I swirl my tongue and lick the inside of my cheeks, the lingering taste of alcohol turning my stomach. A pulse beats between my brows, so I keep my eyes closed, too scared to open them. My eyelids are sticky, and my mind is groggy, heavy with exhaustion.
I sift through my memories of last night and try to piece together what happened. From my current state, I must have drunk a lot more than I planned to. The last solid memory I have is sitting at the table with Bryce and Poppy while they tried to calm me down after my one-on-one run-in with Brody fucking Steele.
Even just the slightest remembrance of that conversation intensifies the pain in my head. I don’t have a lot of experience meeting celebrities, but now I’m positive that I don’t want to ever meet another one. Not if they’re going to stomp all over my minuscule expectations of them by being such total assholes! I don’t even know why he took such a strong dislike to me so suddenly. Poppy and Bryce assured me that he’s a nice guy, but I couldn’t disagree more.
With that thought, I finally peel my eyelids open and squint at the beaming sunlight shining directly onto my bed. Groaning, I lift a hand to my face and shield my eyes.
“You’re awake!” Poppy’s voice ricochets through my skull.
“What gave me away?”
“The groaning. You sounded like an angry bull.”
I blow out a laugh and grip the blanket at my chest, turning onto my side. My first look at Poppy takes me aback. “How long have you been awake?”
“A couple of hours. There’s coffee and bagels in the kitchen.” She’s dressed in workout clothes, her hair tied back and cheeks flushed. Blue eyes bright and soft, she stares at me, assessing. “How are you feeling?”
“Like roadkill. How do you look so good? Did youwork out?”
“Yep. Both you and Bryce were dead to the world when I woke up, and after last night, I figured you both needed the extra sleep. How much do you remember?”
By the slight twist of her mouth as she shifts her weight back and forth on her feet, almost like she’s holding herself back from blurting out what happened, I can tell it probably wasn’t anything good.
“Nothing. Explain it all to me, please.”
Loud, uneven footsteps sound before Bryce appears beside Poppy. She looks about as great as I feel. Bags heavy beneath her eyes, skin pale, and hair stuck up in every which way, she’s the picture of hungover. I don’t even want to know how I look right now.
“I’m going to guess and say it has to do with why I have pink paint beneath my nails?” she asks, examining her hands.
Alarmed, I bring mine in front of my face and gawk at the pink crusted beneath my short nails. Poppy has the nerve to giggle at our reactions.
“It was Bryce’s idea,” she tells us.
“What was?” I stammer.
Bryce is grimacing now, her face somehow becoming paler. “Tell me we didn’t.”
My eyes flick between the two of them, anxiousness swelling in my stomach. “If one of you doesn’t tell me what we did right now, I’ll kick you out in the snow.”
