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I shift and realize my body aches. Then I realize I fell asleep with Toast and never made it to my comfy pillow, so my neck was bent at a terrible angle, and… ouch.
Bleary-eyed, I try to orient myself. My iPad is lying open on the bed in front of me so I touch the screen.
I gasp with horror when I see 7:48 at the top of the screen. “No!”
I forgot to set the alarm.
I launch off the bed and rip open my bedroom door, hurrying out to the living area. Stacie is sitting on the gray futon couch, Toast curled up on the empty cushion beside her.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“Can I use your phone?”
She starts to nod, but then her eyes widen and her jaw drops open as her gaze travels over what I’m wearing. “Are you… wearing a guy’s T-shirt?”
“It’s a long story.” I reach out a hand pleadingly. “I’m late for work, and I don’t have my phone.”
A frown flickers across her face and she holds out her phone for me to take. “What happened last night? Did you… I mean, I take it your ‘date’ with Kyle went well?”
“No. Kyle’s a douche. You were right. It’s someone else’s shirt.” I tap the internet browser on her phone so I can look up the restaurant’s phone number. “I am helpless without my phone. I need to do a detox or something and learn a couple of phone numbers.” I don’t wait for her to respond and put the ringing phone to my ear.
Stacie sits forward and hits pause on the TV, then she watches me on my call.
“Hi!” I say too enthusiastically when Donna answers the phone. “It’s Brynn. I’m so sorry. I lost my phone last night and—please don’t fire me.”
“Girl, we are swamped. If you get your ass here in the next half hour, you can keep your job, but you’d better hurry.”
Relieved that I still have a chance, I get off the phone fast and grab Toast’s food bowl so I can feed her before I leave.
“Um, I’m gonna need context for this morning-after look you’ve got going on,” Stacie says, leaning her hip against the small stretch of open counter and gesturing to my attire.
“I honestly don’t have time to explain.” I use the spoon to scrape the bottom of the tin, then tap it on the side to shake every last drop into the food dish. “Last night was a nightmare. Did a guy show up here…” I stop, unsure how to ask if Killian’s friend checked in on her like he said they would last night.
Stacie’s eyebrows rise. “Did Yacht Party Ken show up this morning and give me your car keys? Yes, he did. I know your instincts aren’t top tier, but please tell me you didn’t sleep with that obviously sinister man?”
I crack a smile. “Pressed slacks and a button-down with a watch that costs a year’s worth of tuition?”
“Patrick Bateman in his Hamptons wardrobe?” She nods. “He was here an hour ago.”
My shoulders sink with relief. “Oh, thank god.” I did not want to ask Stacie for a ride to my car, but I figured it was still parked over by the frat house. “I love and hate Killian’s friends in equal measure.”
Her eyebrows rise with interest. “And who is Killian?”
I sigh, a faint smile claiming my lips. “I’ll tell you later.” I grab the dish off the counter and bend to put it down for Toast. “Come here, baby. Time for breakfast.”
Toast prances over with absolutely no sense of urgency. She brushes up against my leg on the way to the dish, so I lean down to give her a stroke.
I hate leaving her again. I’ll be gone for most of the day, and I had planned to wake up early so I could spend a little time with her first.
Stacie walks over to the table and comes back with a car key, but I frown when I see it because… that’s not my car key.
It’s Killian’s.
“Um… this is the key he gave you?”
“Is it not your key?”
“It’s not,” I confirm.
