Leaning forward he turns the dial on the stereo to "Vice" from Miranda Lambert. Leaning his wrist over the steering wheel, his shoulders are tense, I can tell he's done talking about this.
Holding my dizzy head, I lie in the seat and let the song take me into a slumber.
Waking up to the familiar smell of home, I sit up in my bed. I'm stripped to a shirt and my socks, and I blush.
Did Max dress me?
Last night filters into my head like a bad movie. I threw up, on Max! How embarrassing.
"Quinn?" I call out, hoping she's the one that dressed me and not Max. Needing to vent to her about everything that happened last night. Not hearing anything, I slide my legs over the bed and step on something, or someone rather.
"f**k!" a male voice hollers. I jump back on my bed and scream, my head po
