My head was throbbing and my mouth tasted vile. It was that dry, hungover taste that made me queasy. I refused to open my eyes just yet, hoping that maybe if I could fall back asleep, I could sleep my miserable feelings away.
I rolled onto my side, reaching for a pillow. I tugged the comforter around me a little more, relishing the soft feel of it on my skin, the way it was warm against the chill of the air.
This was not my bed.
The thought shot through me like a rocket. I sat straight up in bed, ignoring the way my head throbbed.
I should have known I wasn't at home by the way my skin prickled at how cold the air was.
It was summer in Las Vegas. The terrible air conditioning in my apartment building couldn't keep up with the boiling heat of the desert. I was never cool enough in the
