BRITNEY
The humming of my alarm went off promptly at four a.m. As I slowly pushed myself up, stretching my body out, I was suddenly taken aback to see Tristin’s eyes gradually fluttering open. Shielding his eyes from the light, he let out a groan.
“What time is it?” he mumbled.
“Four,” I said, getting out of bed and wading through the drawers of my dresser to find yoga clothes. “I need to shower.”
“Where are you going so early?” I grabbed a pair of leggings and a tank top and turned my body to face him, holding the outfit in my hands. His words the night before said he was giving me time, but his actions suggested anything but, as he lay on my pullout couch in his boxer briefs, rocking a massive hangover. He sat up and cradled his head in his hands, rubbing his temples with his thumbs
