Page 69 of Wingwoman
My mouth had the sour taste of day-old alcohol and I was so thirsty I had to practically peel my tongue from the roof of my mouth.
Groaning, I sat up, pressing my palm to my pounding head.
On the nightstand beside me was a large glass of water and a bottle of Ibuprofen.
Thank God.
I popped the cap off, placing two pills on my tongue, then downed half the glass in four gulps.
What the hell happened last night?
Oh yeah. I did shots. Several of them.
And I remembered two martinis at the end of the night. Then, dancing on stage with Drake for several songs before Vivian…
My blood ran cold.
Oh no.
Vivian.
And Drake forcing a kiss on me.
Josh punching him.
Holy shit. What have I done? How many fires did one evening stoke and which person needed triage first?
Was Maggie even okay? Last I saw, she seemed happy enough with Matt, but I made a promise to her that I’d always be there for her.
And last night, I broke that promise.
It was stupid. And so reckless. Drake could have spiked my drinks with anything. I hadn’t been watching as diligently as usual.
Not to mention that I’d hurt people in the process. I may not love Vivian or like the fact that my dad’s getting married again, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings either. I wasn’t a monster.
Well, notusually.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, pausing at the fact that I was no longer in my party outfit from last night. Instead, I wore a pink matching shorts and shirt pajama set.
Whose pajamas was I wearing?
And more importantly, who dressed me in them?
I wassonot a pink girl.
Folded on the guest room dresser was a pair of denim shorts and a Pink Floyd T-shirt.
Nowthatwas more like it.
After cleaning myself up in the bathroom, I dressed in the outfit left for me and walked down into the kitchen.
With a single bark, Cash was on his feet, charging me excitedly. “Hey, buddy,” I said quietly, petting his velvety ears. “It’s good to see you too.”
“You’re alive,” Josh said, turning the corner, sipping coffee from a navy mug.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Alive like Frankenstein’s monster.”
He lifted his mug in cheers to me. “Nice job getting that character distinction right. Most people say Frankenstein like he was the monster, not the doctor.”
