We head into the apartment to find Nancy and Josh doing shots of tequila. Josh beckoned us over and I looked at Tate and Nicholas, who looked as uncomfortable as I did.
“To NYC!” shouts Josh, raising his shot. He nodded to the table where many other shot glasses lay full to the brim.
Tate shrugged and leant over, picking one up for me and one for him.
Nicholas grimaced as Nancy pushed one into his hands.
We all knocked it back, and I coughed. Josh laughed, handing me another. I shook my head.
No way was I having another of those.
“You owe me little lady. One more!”
I met his eyes and sighed. I was a student, after all.
***
I woke to beaming sunlight in my face. I blinked, shielding my eyes.
Ugh.
My head hurt and my mouth felt like it was filled with cotton balls.
I glanced around the room, looking for my phone. It was strange waking up to my new bedroom, but I was happy to have made it home in one piece. We didn’t even make it out of the apartment last night, instead we ordered pizza and sat drinking. It was enjoyable, but that day I was meant to be looking for a job.
Nausea swept over me, and dizziness clouded my vision.
I need water.
I groaned as I swung my legs out of bed, opening my door to see Tate laying on the sofa in a pair of navy joggers, his top half bare. I averted my eyes and cleared my throat, so he knew I was there and could pull a top on or something.
He tilted his head and smiled. “Good morning. What a night, eh?”
I nodded and walked over to the tap, pouring water into a mug from the drying rack. I drank it gratefully before pouring another. I walked over to the sofa, tapping Tate’s legs so he could make room.
He sat up and stretched.
The door buzzer went off, and I looked at Tate who shrugged as though to say he didn’t know how to answer it either. We both laughed as I saw Nancy stomp out of her room and press the buzzer with gusto.
“Who is it?!” she hissed.
The reply was muffled as she rolled her eyes and allowed the stray inside the building. She only had her underwear on, and makeup was smeared all over her face as she trudged back to bed.
Tate snorted with laughter, and I shook my head as I covered my eyes.
“Coffee?” Tate asked, getting up to make his way to the kitchen. I checked my calls, and it seemed I had called Cal last night, twice. God, I hoped I hadn’t cried. I missed him so much.
I studied Tate and wondered what his story was. He was older than us for sure, in his thirties. He walked over, handing me a mug of steaming hot coffee. I moaned appreciatively and sipped it.
There was a knock on our door, and I realized that whoever Nancy had let in had finally managed the stairs. I didn’t envy them. Tate stood and walked to the door, peering through the spyhole.
“Looks like another of my sister’s admirers,” he said dryly, and I snickered as he opened the door. I curled my legs beneath me and watched as Tate greeted the guest.
I almost dropped my coffee when I saw Cal standing in front of me.
He was taking in the scene— Tate half dressed, me with wild, messy hair, dressed in my nightwear—as he looked back to Tate, then me. I stood, placing my coffee on the table.
“Cal?” I murmured in shock. He studied me for a minute, a frown on his face as his eyes met mine.
