Page 49 of Play Pretend

Something was ringing—no, not ringing. It was blaring. It was screeching. It was an incessant, annoying sound, and it was bouncing off every edge of my skull. Maybe, if I didn’t feel like I was dying, the sound would’ve been pretty. But the tinklingding, ding, dingechoed in my head, and, since I was dying, I wanted to rip my eardrums out just so I could have some silence.

Why wouldn’t it just stop?

The entire world spun as I sat up, a raspy groan ripping from my throat. I reached up and cradled my pounding head, silently cursing myself for whatever the hell I’d been thinking last night.

I slapped my hand blindly on the nightstand at my side, sending stuff flying to the floor. Lip balm, earrings, a hairbrush, a full glass of water.

My eyes widened as I stared at the glass lying on its side, the water leaking out and soaking into my carpet.

A full glass of water!

I leapt from bed, bracing my hand on the wall as a surge of bile rose in my throat. Okay, that was it—I wasneverdrinking again. Ever. I wouldn’t survive it.

Thank god that sound finally stopped.

I shuffled to my tiny bathroom and snatched a towel from the rack. It would have to do. Placing it over the water, I weakly smashed my foot on it, grimacing when the water soaked through the fabric and into my sock.

My sock?

Why was I wearing a sock? I never wore socks to bed. I wasn’t a psychopath.

But here I was, hungover—maybe still a little drunk—and I was wearing a sock.

A nowwetsock.

I didn’t have the energy to peel it off, so I decided to just suffer and finish cleaning the water mess before trudging to the kitchen to return the glass. I leaned against the counter, my hands braced tightly on it as I breathed through my rolling nausea.

The sound started up again, and I tipped my head back, staring up at the ceiling. “What did I do to deserve this?” I muttered. “What kind of karma have I inherited?”

A knocking sound accompanied the dinging, and I was positive that someone had cursed me. They’d made a voodoo doll of me and were now torturing me with it. That was the only reasonable explanation as to why I was being punished this cruelly.

My socked feet slid against the carpet as I shuffled to my bedroom, grabbed my ringing phone, then headed toward the door where someone waspoundingon it.

Cruel.

Unusual.

Punishment.

Sliding my thumb along the screen, I answered and pressed it to my ear. “Hello?” I croaked, my voice raw.

“Good morning to you, too.” My mother laughed, her voice far too loud and cheery. “Well, it’s actually afternoon.”

I squinted at the sunlight pouring in through the cream-colored curtains. “Is it?” I muttered. “One sec. Someone is at my door.”

My breath was lost the second my eyes met Ronan’s. For one, they were far too bright and full of life for my liking. And two—Ronan was at my freaking door when I looked likethis. When I smelled like this!

“Oh god,” I breathed. “This isn’t happening. I’m in a dream. A nightmare. An actual Lucifer-induced hellscape terror.”

“I come bearing gifts,” Ronan said, lifting the bag in his hand. His eyes swept over my face, and a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Did you just wake up?”

“What gave it away?” I grumbled, turning toward the couch. “Come in. Or put the goodies by the door and leave. Either way, close it. It’s too bright.”

He chuckled as I threw myself onto my sofa, draping my arm over my eyes. My mother cleared her throat, and it took all the strength I possessed to lift my phone back to my ear.

“Mom?”

“I’ll call you back later,” she said, amusement clear in her voice. “It seems you have company.” All I could do was grunt. It was too much work to move my mouth or use my vocal cords. I’d spent all my energy cleaning up the water mess and walking around the house.

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