Page 6 of The Fangirl and the Grump

Taking a long, deep breath, I hold it in while pushing myself up into a seated position. A groan slips through my lips as fresh pain blooms in my head, but I just breathe through it and kick the shoes off my feet.

Gritting my teeth, I stand and stumble out to the hall and into the bathroom. Thankfully, it’s unoccupied, becausefuck, I have to pee. Once my bladder is empty, I flush and wash my hands before sticking my face in the basin and drinking straight from the tap.

Once my thirst is sated, I stare at my sallow complexion in the mirror and try to remember what happened last night. I can recall leaving here and walking to Wolfsbane Tavern. There was tequila. Lots and lots of tequila. The girls were driving me crazy with constant bickering and sniping, so I just kept drinking. I vaguely remember the cute bartender sending over a pitcher of margies, but I’m not sure how much of it I drank. I was already shitfaced by that point.

I’m fairly positive there was some howling at the moon as we stumbled through the dark on our way back to the house. Was it me? Or one of the others?

Yeah. It was definitely me.

God, my head hurts.

That’s it. Never again. I am very firmlyonthe wagon, and that’s where I’ll be staying.

I make my way into the kitchen where Pressley sits, looking the picture of perfection in her white sundress with her long blonde hair in a smooth high ponytail. I snarl at her on principal, alone, and she chuckles.

“Hair of the dog? I have the stuff out for mimosas,” she says as I plop into the chair across from her.

“Yes. Please.”

Oh, well. The wagon will still be here tomorrow. I can hop back on it then.

The mix of crisp champagne and tart orange juice bursts on my tongue, making me feel a little less like a rotting zombie. I chug it down a little faster than I should, then push myself to my feet while mumbling the word “shower.”

Once I’m clean and wearing fresh clothes, I walk back out into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around my still-damp hair. Pressley is still there, and still alone, which means the other two are still asleep. The mimosa makings are gone, and this time she has her hands wrapped around a steaming mug.

“The coffee pods are in the drawer beneath the machine, and I left a bottle of aspirin for you there next to it.”

“Bless you, beautiful,” I say. “You’re a saint.”

Pressley’s tinkling laughter follows me as I shuffle toward the coffee machine and start a cup. Grabbing the aspirin, I pop two in my mouth before grabbing what I hope is a clean glass and filling it at the sink. Swallowing the pills, I chug down the rest of the glass before setting it aside and pulling open the fridge. Taking out the vanilla creamer, I doctor up my coffee and take it to the table.

Once I’ve had a couple of sips, I meet Pressley’s eyes. “So, last night was crazy, huh?”

She smiles. “You were having fun. That’s what matters. This trip is all about you.”

I cock my head. “I vaguely recallyouhaving fun, too. There were a lot of flirty looks tossed back and forth between you and a certain hottie behind the bar.”

“You reallyweredrunk,” she scoffs, but there’s a fresh bloom of color in her cheeks.

“Okay. Whatever you say,” I sing-song, then flinch as pain streaks through my skull.

“Do you remember howling at that guy at the bar?”

“What? No. What did I do?”

“You stood up and shouted that you found Joseph Lumin before calling himWolf Daddyand howling. Very loudly.”

“Seriously?” I ask with a laugh. “Did he even look like him?”

“Actually? Yes. He really did. But it was obvious he didn’t appreciate the comparison. Or the howling. He got all pissy and stomped out of the bar.”

Before I can respond, there’s a loud groan as Madison shuffles into the room. Sloan wanders in behind her, and they both move toward the coffee maker.

“This place is so fucking loud at night,” Madison grumbles. “I barely slept.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” I say. “Was there a lot of traffic on the road or something?”

“Fucking crickets and frogs,” Sloan clarifies.

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