fumble with my cell phone.
“What’s that sound?” Zoe croaks out of the darkness.
“It’s a sound machine app.” I press my lips together. “Just go back to bed.” I drape the blanket over my head like a makeshift tent and drift off to sleep thinking about the smug expression on that asshole’s face.
Ryle took the long way back to his apartment. With Tank peacefully nestled and snoring in the seat beside him, he knew that time was not of the essence. As he drove, Adaley’s words “mission accomplished,” played in his head like a broken record. He knew better than to believe her. It had been written all over her face. From the moment that he’d told her she looked like a stripper, to the disappointment that flashed across her face when he’d dared her to do a flip. She was clearly into him and was parading herself around – something that immensely turned him off. Naomi was always flaunting her chest like she had the only rack in the world. Easy women weren’t his thing.
As he’d carried Adaley to her room and looked down at her drunken body folded into his embrace, his control meter had started to whack out again. He’d noticed this recurring internal battle when she was near, and he was afraid of going down the same road that he’d foolishly embarked on in the past.
Pushing her away was clearly his only option, because as the tips of his fingers trailed her flawless skin and he’d gotten a glimpse of her up close, he’d known one thing for sure. He was in deep shit.
The unbelievably loud chirping of birds outside of my window infuriates me as they sing in their morning glory kind of way. I hold the pillow over my head and try to mute their noise.
There is a steady throb of pain beating against my skull, and I struggle to keep my lids closed. I’m not ready to face the day – or reality. The sun’s rays have an open invitation through the unobstructed window, and sunshine spreads over my body, engulfing me in its warmth. The sunrays dance across my exposed limbs like they’re rehearsing for a live casting of America’s Got Talent. It’s true that I’m in need of their complementary dose of vitamin-D, but right now, I just want to be annoyed and sulk.
Instead of welcoming the day, I lie still. Every time I move, the room spins around me like a ride at a carnival. My lips are so dry they feel like they’re going to crack open unless I get some moisturizer on them stat, but my mind keeps getting sidetracked by the little noises coming from my stomach. I know at any moment, I might hurl. My mouth feels like it’s being filled up by a saliva hose, and I swallow to push it down, trying to avoid tossing my cookies. “Shit!” I jump out of bed and leap into the bathroom. Hugging the porcelain throne, everything comes up. Literally, I mean everything.
A foul odor assaults my nose, as I let my shoulders sag against the seat. In this horrific moment, I’m thankful yet again for a private bathroom.
This is awful.
I never want to drink again.
“I’m so sorry liver,” I cry out between heaves. I palm my exposed stomach as I literally beg it to forgive me for last night’s shenanigans.
After what seems like an eternity, I pull myself up off the floor and brush my teeth. My mouth still feels dirty. It’s stained from the previous night and coated with embarrassment. Like an old lady, I slowly make my way back to my bed. I crawl into a ball and close my eyes, silently begging the drapes to shut on their own. I can’t even muster up the energy to pull them closed.
The swooshing sound of a pillow being tossed through the air tells me that Zoe’s also awoken from the dead. It hits me in the head and bounces off, tumbling to the floor. I forgot she played softball. No wonder she has impeccable aim.
“Ugh,” I hold my forehead in the palm of my head. “Not cool.”
“I take it you’re not feeling up to par.” Her voice is much too loud and cheerful. It echoes off the walls and
“What’s that sound?” Zoe croaks out of the darkness.
“It’s a sound machine app.” I press my lips together. “Just go back to bed.” I drape the blanket over my head like a makeshift tent and drift off to sleep thinking about the smug expression on that asshole’s face.
Ryle took the long way back to his apartment. With Tank peacefully nestled and snoring in the seat beside him, he knew that time was not of the essence. As he drove, Adaley’s words “mission accomplished,” played in his head like a broken record. He knew better than to believe her. It had been written all over her face. From the moment that he’d told her she looked like a stripper, to the disappointment that flashed across her face when he’d dared her to do a flip. She was clearly into him and was parading herself around – something that immensely turned him off. Naomi was always flaunting her chest like she had the only rack in the world. Easy women weren’t his thing.
As he’d carried Adaley to her room and looked down at her drunken body folded into his embrace, his control meter had started to whack out again. He’d noticed this recurring internal battle when she was near, and he was afraid of going down the same road that he’d foolishly embarked on in the past.
Pushing her away was clearly his only option, because as the tips of his fingers trailed her flawless skin and he’d gotten a glimpse of her up close, he’d known one thing for sure. He was in deep shit.
The unbelievably loud chirping of birds outside of my window infuriates me as they sing in their morning glory kind of way. I hold the pillow over my head and try to mute their noise.
There is a steady throb of pain beating against my skull, and I struggle to keep my lids closed. I’m not ready to face the day – or reality. The sun’s rays have an open invitation through the unobstructed window, and sunshine spreads over my body, engulfing me in its warmth. The sunrays dance across my exposed limbs like they’re rehearsing for a live casting of America’s Got Talent. It’s true that I’m in need of their complementary dose of vitamin-D, but right now, I just want to be annoyed and sulk.
Instead of welcoming the day, I lie still. Every time I move, the room spins around me like a ride at a carnival. My lips are so dry they feel like they’re going to crack open unless I get some moisturizer on them stat, but my mind keeps getting sidetracked by the little noises coming from my stomach. I know at any moment, I might hurl. My mouth feels like it’s being filled up by a saliva hose, and I swallow to push it down, trying to avoid tossing my cookies. “Shit!” I jump out of bed and leap into the bathroom. Hugging the porcelain throne, everything comes up. Literally, I mean everything.
A foul odor assaults my nose, as I let my shoulders sag against the seat. In this horrific moment, I’m thankful yet again for a private bathroom.
This is awful.
I never want to drink again.
“I’m so sorry liver,” I cry out between heaves. I palm my exposed stomach as I literally beg it to forgive me for last night’s shenanigans.
After what seems like an eternity, I pull myself up off the floor and brush my teeth. My mouth still feels dirty. It’s stained from the previous night and coated with embarrassment. Like an old lady, I slowly make my way back to my bed. I crawl into a ball and close my eyes, silently begging the drapes to shut on their own. I can’t even muster up the energy to pull them closed.
The swooshing sound of a pillow being tossed through the air tells me that Zoe’s also awoken from the dead. It hits me in the head and bounces off, tumbling to the floor. I forgot she played softball. No wonder she has impeccable aim.
“Ugh,” I hold my forehead in the palm of my head. “Not cool.”
“I take it you’re not feeling up to par.” Her voice is much too loud and cheerful. It echoes off the walls and
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