Page 24 of Ex's & Oh's (The Lucky Girls 1)

Chapter 7

Jenna

When I blink my eyes open, a nasty headache stabs me between the eyes and I groan. I roll over, pushing right up against a warm body.

I still. My breathing is suddenly shallow and much too fast. I can’t remember where I am. And who I’m with.

Last night rushes back to me.

Shit.

I slept with Brett. Of all the bad choices I can make, of all the mistakes in my life…this definitely steals the show.

“What the hell, Jenna,” I say to myself and sit up. I tuck the sheets against my chest, suddenly worried that we’re in bed. Together. Naked.

But Brett is out like a light. He snores softly. When I nudge his back, he only shifts position and keeps snoring.

Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.

I get out of bed, trying to move carefully despite the fact that he’s sleeping like the dead right now. I find my clothes on the floor and wince as I pull them on—it’s tacky, and I hate having to leave in the clothes I arrived in. But my room isn’t far from here. I can get behind closed doors, shower and change, before anyone has to see me.

I squint in the harsh sunlight that falls through undrawn curtains and curse myself for not eating properly last night. Or vomiting out the contents of my stomach. Either of those would have stopped me from feeling as shit as I feel right now.

This has to be the mother of all hangovers.

I pop my head out of the hotel room door and look up and down the hallway. It’s empty, so I tiptoe to the elevator. When I’m in the elevator, I push the button for my floor. I have no idea what floor I’m on, but…the doors slide open again right away.

Oh.

It looks like Brett is a close neighbor.

Damn it.

I walk to my room, only a few doors down from Brett, and open the door. When I’m safely in my room, I lean against the door and let out a breath before I head to the shower.

I’m barely out and dressed again when someone knocks on my door.

Please, let it not be him.

When I open, Stacey stands in front of me, looking like death warmed over. Her eyes are red and her hair is curly. She never lets it curl unless it’s been a particularly bad day.

“You’re alive,” she says.

I chuckle. “So are you.”

“Barely,” she groans. “The others are still sleeping, or they died. No answer when I knocked. Breakfast?”

I nod and pull my door shut behind me.

“God, you look fantastic. Why do you look so good? Are you even hungover?” Stacey pulls a face at me.

“I’m dying,” I admit.

“But with style.” She looks me up and down, taking in the white pair of shorts and blue halter top I put on, with sandals that have matching blue stones glued onto them.

I shake my head, laughing, and regret it immediately.

When we walk into the dining room, the breakfast buffet is still available. Stacey and I load our plates with everything we can find that’s greasy.

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