Page 34 of The Longshot

“Remember my name?” She cuts my sentence short and flashes me a playful stare.

Heat rushes to my cheeks.

Well, this is embarrassing.

“No, no.” I raise my hands in defense. “Of course I remember your name. Don’t be daft.”

Impatiently, she folds her arms across her chest, sitting up straight. “Oh yeah? Then what is it then?”

“It’s uh…” I attempt to move my lips in ways that don’t make sense, praying that it’ll come to me. Praying that her attempt to call me out on my bluff won’t actually come to fruition.

“It’s Felicity!” She rolls her eyes and abruptly stands up from my mattress, stomping her feet as she collects her things.

“Right, Felicity,” I cheer, yet the name feels foreign on my tongue. “Of course.” I shake my finger in the air as I blatantly lie through my teeth. “See, I didn’t forget. It’s just early, that’s all.”

“Yeah, right...” Felicity reaches for a pair of leggings that were once flung across the room, slipping them on one leg at a time. “You’re so full of shit.”

Remorse courses through me as she continues to get dressed, gathering items from around my flat that’s in complete shambles.

Not only are clothes flung everywhere, but my lamp is knocked over, and there’s an empty bottle of wine laying on the ground. The kicker? A once half-naked woman kissing up on me as if it wasn’t the first time.

Am I in the fucking hangover movie?

Shit.

“Hey, Felicity…” I run a messy hand through my knotted hair, unsure how to precisely phrase this obvious question. “Last night. Did we, uh—you know…”

“Fuck?” She finishes the sentence for me, making direct eye contact as she takes off my T-shirt and replaces it with her own.

I gulp as she flings it in my face.

“Don’t worry, pretty boy.” She slips on her shirt and heels, her voice full of confidence. “We didn’t.”

I can’t deny the sense of relief I feel. It’s not that I was afraid that I’d just slept with this girl. She’s fit as fuck, I’ll admit, but if I sleep with someone, I’d like to be able to remember it.

“So, care to enlighten me on what exactly happened then?” I scratch behind my neck, hopeful she’ll give me some context on what I missed.

“What happened?” she repeats back to me as she reaches to retrieve the wine bottle from the ground. “Well, isn’t it obvious? We were both drunk at Tenners and started making out. Next thing I knew, we made it back to your place, and right before we were about to have sex, you fell asleep. The end.”

I don’t know what’s worse, not remembering what happened or that outcome.

“Sorry about that,” I apologize, given that that was likely not the night she thought she was signing herself up for, but can you blame me? Between the game, the rejection, and the drinking, clearly my mind was just ready to shut off—only to wake me up with such an intensity of thoughts this morning.

“Don’t worry about it.” She’s visibly receptive to my apology as she sinks back onto the mattress. “Besides, you were kind of being off all night. Was something bothering you?”

I shake my head, not only because I don’t know how to answer her loaded question but because it’s the only way to soothe this pounding in my skull.

I wish my binge drinking could be so easily forgotten.

“It’s nothing,” I lie. “I was just thinking about some stuff, that’s all.” I shrug off the question.

“Some stuff, or some girl?”

My eyes widen.

“How did you… how did you know…” I’m left dumbfounded as she flashes me a cocky smirk.

“I think everyone at Tenner’s knew, Wilks. Hell, you wouldn’t stop going on about this girl all night. How do you think we started kissing? You said something along the lines of ‘give my lips something else to do’. So, I took you up on the offer.”

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