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“Mom…”
“I’m sorry,” I managed to get out before running from the restaurant.
Running wasn’t the right word. I stumbled. I was white-girl wasted, and my path from the table to the front door probably looked like a squiggly line.
The last thing I remember was the hostess shouting at me.
*
I woke up in my bed with a pounding head and my eyes crusted over with gunk. I groaned and caught a whiff of my own breath, which almost made me choke.
How did I get home? Everything was a blur. I glanced under my comforter and saw that I was still fully dressed in my rehearsal clothes. My shoes were off, though.
I glanced at the window, but the sunlight reflecting off the fire escape was so bright I closed my eyes and rolled back over.
A knock came on my door. Ryan poked his head in. “There she is. I thought I heard you stirring.” He came inside and put a glass of water on the bedside table. “Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”
My throat felt like a desert. I gulped down the water so fast I almost choked.
Ryan returned with a tall glass of something brown in his hand. He sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the hair out of my face. “This is my homemade hangover cure.”
I pushed up into a sitting position and accepted the glass. “What’s in it?”
“Raw eggs, spinach, chocolate protein powder, and orange Gatorade mix.”
I made a gagging sound. “Why did you have to tell me?”
Ryan grinned. “I call it a drunk Easter bunny. Come on, drink it down.”
“This isn’t the kind of thing I want you to force down my throat.”
Ryan barked a laugh. “You’ve still got your sense of humor. That’s a good sign. I promise it’ll help with your hangover.”
I sighed and took a sip. It tasted foul, like a fruit salad and unsweetened chocolate all mixed together, but it wasn’t as bad as I had expected. And my stomach approved of being filled with something.
Ryan grimaced as he watched me drink. “I’m sorry for getting you drunk.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“You’re right,” he admitted, “but I knew you had dinner plans with Braden’s parents. If I wasn’t busy feeling sorry for myself I could have reminded you.”
“Or I could have remembered myself, since it was my responsibility.”
He smiled and put a hand on my leg. “At the very least, I wouldn’t have let you match me shot for shot.”
I winced at the memory of the tequila. Never again.
“I appreciate you trying to make me feel better,” Ryan went on. He ran a hand through his auburn hair. “Everything else aside, that meant a lot to me. Especially how you bluntly told me I was suspicious of Atkins for no reason. I needed that reality check.”
“I was just putting the buddy in fuck-buddy,” I said. “You would have done the same for me.”
He smiled and nodded at the drink. “Finish it up. Every drop.”
I groaned but obeyed. Each successive gulp was easier than the last, until there was only a thick brown residue left on the outside of the glass.
“Atta girl,” Ryan said. “Right on time too…”
Andy pushed his way into my room. “She ready?”
