Rachel
I didn’t feel half bad when my alarm went off. My eyes opened, and I braced myself for a pounding headache and nausea, expecting a hangover. Instead, I was tired, but the typical aftereffects didn’t seem to hit me. After drinking a full glass of water without stopping to take a breath, I decided to climb back into bed for another fifteen minutes.
Caine had insisted on driving me home. Half way, he’d stopped and run into a twenty-four-hour convenience store, coming out with a brown paper bag that he’d handed me before leaving me at my apartment door.
“Take everything inside. It doesn’t work unless you finish it all,” he’d said.
The bag had two bottles of water, a banana, and a single packet of Motrin. Since he’d gone to the trouble of picking it all up, I followed his orders.
Un
