The first thing I registered was the smell. It smelled like fresh rain, expensive lavender, and clean air.
Then came the light. It wasn’t the gloomy, filtered grey that usually squeezed through my cracked kitchen window. This was a brilliant, aggressive beam of morning sunlight, cutting right across my eyelids like a laser.
I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut, rolling over, expecting to hit the hard wooden edge of my mattress. Instead, I sank deeper into what felt like a cloud made of silk and goose feathers. My head throbbed with a rhythmic, pounding hangover that felt like a tiny construction crew was drilling into my temples. Why did tequila always feel like such a brilliant idea at the time?
I slowly cracked my eyes open. I frowned. This definitely wasn't my apartment.
I shot uprigh
