“You look awful,” I joked as Quinn shuffled into the bar. “Are you hungover?”
“Meeblrgh,” she muttered. Dark circles graced her eyes and a distinct energy wafted off of her as she sat down next to me.
“Oh s**t, you’re actually hungover,” I realised. So I went through two excruciating days without alcohol because Quinn told me it was bad and now she came in reeking of stale beer?
“Quinn?”
She waved her hand. “Shh, not so loud.”
“Wow.” I stared at the young woman, unsure what to think of this. “Must’ve been a good party if you’re hungover two days later, hmm?”
“Yeah, it was alright.”
“Hah. Right.”
I knew what alright meant, especially for someone with her looks. Girls had to be blind not to take a shot at flirting with her. And why wouldn’t they? They weren’t her boss, were they?
I
