The sun poured in through the ragged blinds, casting bright lines of light like a spotlight on my misery. I squinted, painfully aware of the pounding in my head, the result of too much moonshine and mistakes shared with Preston. I blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the blinding brightness of the room, all the while being hit in the face by the foul smell of stale alcohol, sweat, and regret.
As I tried to shake off sleep from my limbs, I remembered last night: the confessions, the deep, drunken dives into my pathetic love life. I turned my head slightly and saw Preston sprawled across the bed, his hand draped over my waist like a limp octopus. His snoring was a low rumble, a comforting yet irritating sound that somehow reminded me of home. With a muted growl of annoyance, I slid out
