He Liked Me While I Obsessed Over Him

Chapter 4 The Hangover

The next day was the weekend. When I woke up in the morning, my mind was a total blank. I had absolutely no recollection of how I had even made it home.

Nursing a splitting headache, I dragged myself toward the kitchen, only to find a pot of warm soup sitting on the stove.

I was completely dumbfounded. 'What on earth is going on?'

I grabbed my phone and called a coworker. The moment she heard my voice, she burst out laughing.

"Allie, do you seriously not remember anything?"

When I confessed that I was completely blank, an even louder roar of laughter exploded from the other end of the line.

"You got completely wasted last night and face-planted right onto the table! When Mr. Lambert tried to wake you up, you wrapped your arms around him, refused to let go, and kept begging him to be your husband!

"In the end, Mr. Lambert had no choice but to ask around for your address and drive you home. When he carried you into the car, you kept asking if it was your wedding limo! You should've seen him. His face turned bright red."

I froze entirely.

I didn't hear a single word she said after that. I just hung up the phone in a complete, numbed trance.

And then, I let out a blood-curdling shriek. 'Oh my god, what am I going to do? How am I supposed to look anyone in the eye when I go to work on Monday?!'

Suddenly, a notification popped up on my phone: "'Mr. Mystery' has posted a new video."

Right now, not even Mr. Mystery's perfect abs could salvage my mood. I had completely offended my boss. My job was as good as gone.

Yet, my fingers completely defied my brain and clicked into Mr. Mystery's profile anyway.

In his latest video, he was as scantily clad as always, but there were a few distinct scratch marks across his chest.

The caption made it even more scandalous.

It read: "Scratched by my wife."

The comment section was absolutely losing its mind. Everyone assumed it was just special effects makeup Mr. Mystery had used to set a sultry mood.

But as I stared at the dimly lit, toned physique moving to the music on my screen, a sudden wave of familiarity washed over me.

Last night, I vaguely remembered clawing at someone's chest too. But my brain was still heavily fogged up from the alcohol, and I couldn't piece the memory together.

I quickly dismissed the fleeting thought. Right now, my absolute highest priority was figuring out how to handle my boss!

If I got kicked out of the company on Monday, it would be utterly humiliating.

After agonizing over it for a while, I finally formulated a message and sent it to Melvin.

I told him that he looked exactly like my tragically deceased, late husband, and that seeing him had triggered such intense grief that I couldn't help but mistake him for my spouse. I begged him to please not hold it against me.