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I force my eyes open and turn, dislodging what I now realize is a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. “For a run? Are you⁠—”

He grabs my ankle again and lifts my leg. “If I were you, I’d think really hard about what I said next.”

“Fine. Fine,” I mutter, holding his gaze. I’ve never seen him this pissed. “I’ll be downstairs in five minutes.”

“I’m counting on it.” He drops my leg and walks out without closing the door.

Dammit. Today isn’t looking any better than yesterday.

Dad is quiet as we run side by side, focused on the road ahead. It feels like he’s ignoring me. If so, it serves me right.

My headache has gotten better, but it’s still present. The morning air is cool enough to sting my lungs, but it’s what I needed to wake up. The sun’s peeking out over the horizon.

My breath fogs in front of me, my sneakers hitting the pavement as I search my memories, trying to figure out how I got home last night. Images and sounds blur into a mess I can’t untangle, though I remember my dad’s car, and I think I remember climbing into the back seat.

The higher we climb, the slower Dad runs. I match his pace, wishing I could blend into the background so he’d forget I’m here with him. At the top of the hill, he stops, hands on his knees. I stop too, breaths sawing in and out as my head pounds dully. This is torture.

“How do you feel?” Dad asks.

I slump to the ground, knees up, arms resting on them, and look up at him. “Like I was run over by a train.”

“Did you feel like that when you woke up, or only after the run?”

“After the run. But I felt like I was dying when I woke up. So this is an improvement.”

“Okay.” He squats and zeroes in on me, his expression tight. “What happened last night?”

Adrenaline shoots through me, my extremities tingling. “What do you mean?”

“Your girlfriend called me from your phone last night, and when I got there to pick you up, you were wasted.”

My stomach lurches. “My girlfriend?”

Dad snorts. “That’s the detail that caught your attention?”

“I just…” I trail off, taking in the scenery behind him. “Who are you talking about? What does she look like?”

“The blonde from your birthday party. Can’t remember her name.”

Involuntarily, I shudder. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

He gives me a deadpan look, brows raised. “I spent a good three minutes waiting for you two to stop sucking face before the girl helped you into the car.”

My face burns intensely, like my skin has been set on fire. I did what? In front of my dad?

“When you finally stopped, she grabbed your hand, dragged you to the passenger window, and introduced herself as your girlfriend.” He tilts his head. “Her high-pitched squeal after I said it was nice to meet her still rings in my ears.”

“I’m sorry.” I hang my head, eyes squeezed shut. “She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t know why she would say she is. Honestly, I don’t remember half of what happened.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.” He stands, looming over me. “I’m no saint, Michael. I remember being a teenager and making stupid choices. But this was a school event. Thank God none of the teachers noticed. If they had, you could’ve been suspended; you could’ve been benched. You realize that, right? And the scouts are coming soon. You know that. Why would you risk everything for something so stupid?” He studies me for a moment, his jaw tightening. “You’re sure no one kept handing you drinks? No one pushed you to have more than you planned?”

“I knew the punch was spiked,” I say quickly. “I figured I’d have a few sips and be fine. That was on me.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway.

I run my fingers through my hair. “But it wasn’t just spiked. It was mostly alcohol, and I didn’t realize how fast it would hit me. I only had one cup, and I think…I think I stayed with Sienna most of the night. That’s the last clear thing I remember.” I bite my bottom lip, racking my brain for details from last night. “I remember getting back on the dance floor, and it’s all kind of a blur after that.”

Dad narrows his eyes. “You said you stayed with Sienna.”