Waylen Pov
The first thing I felt when my alarm screamed through my room was pain hot, pounding pain that throbbed behind my eyes and made my skull feel too tight.
I groaned, dragging an arm over my face. The scent of alcohol and sweat still clung to my sheets. No surprise. We had spent the entire night drinking, dancing, messing around, and doing every other reckless thing a bunch of unmated boys could think of.
I was exhausted.
I needed another hour.
Maybe another day.
I reached blindly toward the alarm, ready to silence it and drift back into the warm haze of sleep.
But before I could touch it, my bedroom door swung open.
Light spilled in. And standing there were my parents my mother holding a candle, my father wearing a smile that told me I should’ve remembered something extrem
