The morning after that night, I heard something sizzling and coffee wafting around me. For a split second I did not know where I was. Light streaming through the curtains was softer than the morning glare in Elon's old room. It hit me then - this was not the cafe. This also was not my place.
Mike's apartment.
The memories came back in bits - the exhaustion pushing down on me, how I had fallen in the cafe, and how Mike held me as I unfolded. I barely remember leaving but I must have. Instead of waking up at a sticky cafe table, I was here in a bed that was not mine.
Pushing the covers off, I sat up, my head pounding from exhaustion and whatever alcohol was still in my bloodstream. The air smelled like eggs and butter - warmth I had not allowed myself to experience in a while. I stood bri
