"Here. Put this on."
Enzo held out one of his white t-shirts. I took it, my fingers brushing his, and heat shot up my arms. I mumbled thanks and asked where I could change. He pointed down the hall to the bathroom.
I stood, wrapped tight in the white hotel blanket, and made myself walk. It took everything not to run. I could feel his eyes on my back the whole way. My legs were still shaky. Drunk-shaky. Humiliation-shaky.
Inside, I slammed the door and pressed my forehead to it. My heart was pounding like I’d run a mile. “i***t,” I whispered to myself. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to disappear.
What must he think of me? I’d gotten trashed at the bar with my friends—well, _I_ was the only one trashed—and he’d had to bring me here. To his hotel room. He’d told me, a
