12
You Did This to Yourself
Clay woke up the next morning to a wall of pain. He cradled his head in his hands as he rolled over in bed and tried to escape the light filtering in through the window. He flung the covers up to shelter his body, but it did no good. He couldn’t go back to sleep. Not with this massive hangover.
What the hell did I drink last night to warrant this?
He couldn’t remember.
He opened his bleary eyes and glanced around the room. It was empty, save for him. The bed was mussed, but it didn’t look like anyone else had been in it. At least, he didn’t think he’d had anyone else here.
Everything was a little fuzzy around the edges. The last thing he remembered was yelling at Andrea and making a f*****g fool of himself at the inaugural ball. Apparently, he’d then drank
