Chapter 95 Chapter 95

Chapter 95 Chapter 95

The first thing I felt was pain when my eyes opened.

A deep, throbbing, pulsing ache right behind my forehead as if someone had wedged a hammer inside my skull and was rhythmically tapping it in a steady, merciless beat.

I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut again.

Every sound from the soft hum of the A/C to the birds chirping outside, and even my own breathing, felt too loud. Way too loud.

I rolled over sluggishly, burying half my face in the soft pillow.

And that was when my hand brushed against something warm. Warm… and solid. It was Scott.

Even through my headache, I could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He was lying flat on his back, one arm thrown over his head, his hair slightly tousled. His jaw was relaxed, his lips parted just enough to show he was in deep sleep.

He looked peaceful.

I blinked slowly at him, trying to piece together how we got here. Our room was dim, with bright morning sun slipping faintly through the curtains. The blanket was sprawled awkwardly across the bed, barely covering either of us.

Everything felt… hazy.

The throbbing in my skull intensified when I attempted to think too hard, so I gave up on recalling the night for the moment. With another groan, I pushed myself upright, dragging the blanket off my legs.

Bad idea.

My head pounded harder, and I gripped the side of the bed to keep my balance.

“God…” I whispered to myself, touching my temple. “Never again.”

After a few slow breaths, I carefully placed my feet on the floor and stood. The room spun for half a second before everything steadied enough for me to take a step.

Scott didn’t move.

Good.

I didn’t need him awake yet. Not when I could barely hold myself upright.

I trudged my way into the bathroom like someone twice my age. The moment the bright light flicked on, I flinched so hard that I nearly turned it off immediately.

“Too bright,” I muttered.

Still, I forced myself to continue. I leaned heavily on the sink, staring at my own reflection through half-lidded eyes.

I looked… awful.

Hair everywhere. Eyes puffy. The imprint of a pillow crease across my left cheek.

I pressed my hand to my face, trying to piece together flashes of last night.

The restaurant. Shots. More shots. Even more shots.

Scott laughing until he nearly fell off the booth. Ace shouting for more. Me caught in the middle. And…

The kissing.

My cheeks warmed. I shut my eyes again.

“That… happened,” I whispered.

But everything after we got home? Nothing. Just vague impressions of hands, laughter, stumbling into the house, the vague heat of being surrounded by the two of them.

I shook my head quickly. Bad move. The throbbing got worse.

I used the toilet, washed my hands, then splashed cold water on my face until the fog in my head cleared just a little. I brushed my teeth slowly, pausing between swirls of the toothbrush to breathe through the headache.

When I finished, I still felt like death, but a slightly more refreshed version of death.

I stepped out of the bathroom quietly so I wouldn’t wake Scott. He was still sleeping, breathing deeply.

I slipped out of the room and down the hallway toward the kitchen.

The rest of the house was unusually bright. The morning sun poured through the tall windows, warming the floors. My head hurt less in the natural light… but my thoughts hurt more. Every step reminded me of how I’d been last night. How out of control. How drunk.

I reached the kitchen and managed a small wave at the chef, who was chopping vegetables.

“Good morning,” I rasped.

He looked at me and immediately chuckled. “Rough night, ma’am?”

“You have no idea.”

He laughed, shaking his head knowingly as I headed to the fridge. The cold blast of air felt like heaven against my overheated face. I grabbed a chilled bottle of water and closed the door gently because every sound felt exaggerated.

I took a long drink. Then another. Then another.

Only after half the bottle was gone did I let myself lean against the counter and breathe. And then the memories started forming. But only fragments. Just pieces. And not enough to make a full picture, but enough to send warmth creeping into my cheeks.

I remembered laughing uncontrollably at something Ace said. I remembered Scott’s arm around me when we left the restaurant. I remembered Ace holding my hand as we walked up the stairs because I nearly tripped. And—

I remembered kissing both of them.

My hand flew to my mouth instinctively.

Oh. God.

“Oh no…” I whispered into my palm.

I didn’t know how far things had gone. I only remembered lips... warm lips... both of theirs. And laughter. And—

Footsteps. It was slow. Dragging. And heavy.

I turned with my half-finished bottle of water and saw Ace shuffle into the kitchen, one hand pressed to his forehead, his hair sticking up in every possible direction.

He groaned, “Kill me.”

I let out a small laugh. “Well, good morning to you.”

He blinked up at me, eyes half-closed. “Barely.”

He headed to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and cracked it open. We stood there for a moment like two zombies in pajamas, drinking in silence.

After a few more long gulps, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded toward the door.

“Let’s get some sun. That might help.”

He didn’t wait for me. Just started shuffling out. I followed him, clutching the bottle. We stepped outside through the doors into the backyard. The sunlight felt warm, soft, and soothing. Thank God. It was enough to help wake me up.

I inhaled slowly. Fresh air.

Ace and I walked to the bench near the fountain and sat, both of us leaning forward like old people with joint pain.

After a moment, Ace turned slightly. “So… how was your night?”

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “Honestly? I’m tired. Everything is blurry. I remember the restaurant. And coming home. And—”

I paused.

Do I say it?

He raised a brow. “And?”

“And… kissing you. And Scott,” I said quietly, cheeks warming again.

Ace’s mouth twitched… then he burst into a soft laugh.

“Oh, that.”

I shot him a look. “What do you mean... that?”

“It’s best you don’t remember everything.” He snorted. “You’ll save yourself a meltdown.”

My stomach twisted. “Ace…”

He leaned back against the bench, face tilted toward the sun. “We were three idiots last night. But good idiots.” Ace cracked one eye open. “Do you think Scott remembers any of it?”

I stared at him. “I doubt he’s even awake. That man drank more than I’ve seen him drink in my entire life.”

“Did you check on him this morning?” He asked.

“Well, he was still sleeping when I woke up and when I left.”

Ace hummed in agreement. “Figures.”

There was a short pause.

Then he muttered under his breath, “God, I hope he doesn’t remember anything.”

My heart thudded. “Why?”

Ace scratched the back of his head. “Because if he remembers everything, he’ll be pissed that I kissed his wife.”

I blinked. “I don’t think he’ll take it seriously.”

“Serious?” Ace laughed lightly. “I kissed you so much last night. And he did too. And then he—”

He stopped suddenly.

I frowned. “He what?”

Ace looked away.

“Ace…”

A long pause.

Then he glanced at me again, his expression tightening.

“That wasn’t all that happened last night.”