The sound of footsteps rouses me from my sleep, heeled shoes running along the hall. My clock reads three in the morning. It must have been quite some party.
It’s unusual for her to go straight to Rich’s room, though. Usually she needs to vomit or sober herself up first. I can’t complain, my room is right next to the bathroom, and if she’s missing out on that particular ritual tonight, that’s fine with me.
I hear his bedroom door open with a bang. There’s a startled cry, followed by raised voices. I can’t help it, I have to go and look.
I slip the covers off my legs and slide out of bed, making no noise as I tread on the soft carpet. My door creaks as I open it, but I doubt they can hear anything above the racket they’re making.
I carry on along the hall, reaching the door to the maste
