A heavy wave of nausea woke me from a dream where I was drowning in whiskey and my own tears. Struggling to sit up made it ten times worse. I laid on my back, waiting for the room to finish putting itself right-side up. What had possessed me to drink that much alcohol? I barely consumed a glass of wine at the holidays and yet somehow I had tried to drink my body weight in whiskey.
Pressing my eyes shut, I willed the nausea to go away. Tristan would never want me if I threw up my stomach contents on his pristine bed.
The thought of Tristan, followed by the thought that I was in his bed, proved to be too much for my current state, though, and I quickly scrambled to the bathing room to puke. I barely made it to the lavatory before my body betrayed me. Once the heaving stopped and I could
