DEREK
I woke with the sour taste of whiskey still clinging to my tongue and sunlight stabbing through my eyelids like a punishment. My head was pounding. My mouth felt like cotton. And the dull throb behind my eyes wasn’t just from the hangover.
Cassandra’s bare shoulder was the first thing I saw when I turned my head.
I sat up fast. Too fast. The room tilted.
“What the hell…” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. I was still wearing my watch. My pants were on the floor. My shirt was missing.
Cassandra stirred beside me, the covers slipping low on her back.
“Morning,” she said softly, sleepily, like this was normal. Like we did this all the time.
I felt sick.
“I don’t remember…” I started, and she smiled—soft and sad and understanding.
“You were drunk,” she said. “Heartbroken
