Hazel's POV
I heard the heavy door clicking shut in the quiet night.
The moment he stepped downstairs, I rolled over again on the bed, a soft, annoyed whisper slipping out of me like a breeze. "Bryce... you jerk... get lost."
I woke up with sharp, pounding pain the next morning. My hangover made me feel like someone was twisting a blunt steel rod through my skull endlessly.
I forced myself to sit up and looked around to find myself in the bedroom of my studio, still wearing last night's clothes. A faint, unfamiliar but pleasant smell hung in the air, gone as fast as it came, so brief it felt like I’d imagined it.
My memories from last night were broken up, and basically all I could remember were blurry images of drinking too much at the bar, then a splitting headache soon after. Every
