When I roll over, I immediately realize where I am. A glass of water sits on the table next to a bottle of over-the-counter pain meds. Kane predicted I’d have a raging hangover, and damn, he was right. Drinking was the stupidest idea I’ve had all year.
I see the clothes I wore to the Fourth of July party on the floor and notice I’m wearing another one of his shirts. Hopefully, he realizes I’ll be keeping this one too. The other shirt hasn’t been washed yet, but his scent has unfortunately dissipated. It’s okay because the memories of him giving it to me live rent-free in my head.
Just as I grab two pills and gulp them down, Kane comes from the hallway wearing a pair of black joggers. They sit haphazardly on his hips, and I can’t help but linger on his abs. Kane looks good enough to eat,
