John woke up when a hand slapped against his cheek, landing on his pillow. His left side was exposed to air. He turned his head and found himself sharing a bed with, not his girlfriend, but Cassie. From the slim light in the bathroom, he could see she was sprawled out in middle of the bed. He was pushed all the way to the edge of the mattress and covered only partially with one blanket. Cassie had the sheets and comforter wrapped all around her, tangled and twisted. Her short hair was messed up, and a chunk of it covered her face. The hand that had slapped him lay horizontal from her body, stretched out as far as her arm could reach.
He turned toward the clock and made out that it was 3:46. When he’d come to bed, he’d been so sick of Cassie and all she brought along with her, he’d flicked
