Page 32

My gaze lands on... myself. Well, my reflection.

Why can I see myself right now? I don’t have a mirror over my dresser. I only have one on my makeup table, one that was my grandmother's.

So, why is there this massive one sitting on a very old, but expensive-looking dresser?

I blink a few times, wondering if I’m still sleeping.

Then I slowly start to look around, unease growing inside me as I start to realize that none of the furniture around me is familiar. Not my dresser, not my vanity, not my fucking bed.

Fisting the plush duvet, I stare at it in shocked horror.

I’m not in my room. Hell, I’m not even in my fucking house.

My head snaps up, panic crashing into me.

Where the fuck am I?

Oh god. Did I have an episode? Did I somehow sleepwalk into someone's house and pass out in their bed?

How far did I walk? Because by the look and size of this room, it wouldn’t be in any of the houses near mine.

“Okay, Cove. Do not freak out. Breathe. First, we need to find out what the fuck is going on and where you are. Then we can figure out how the hell you got here,” I tell myself, trying to calm down despite how fast my heart is racing and how I feel like I’m three seconds from losing it.

This isn’t the weirdest thing that's happened to me this week, so there's that.

That's kind of sad when you think about it.

Pushing back the blanket, I swing my legs over the bed and get to my feet. As soon as I stand, the need to pee intensifies.

Finding a bathroom is first on the priorities; then second is getting the hell out of here before anyone realizes I’m here.

There are three doors in the room. I try the first one and discover it’s a closet full of women's clothes. I go for the second one, finding it’s an ensuite bathroom. Thank god.

Quickly, I rush inside and over to the toilet. Shoving my panties down, I groan, making it just in time before I pissed myself.

That would have made for an awkward and uncomfortable escape.

Closing my eyes, I take a few calming breaths before finishing up. As I’m about to pull my panties up, I realize two more things.

One: I went to bed naked—that much I remember because I was too tired to get dressed. So, why am I in a t-shirt and panties?

And two: what the fuck is the white stuff coating the magically appearing panties?

I stare at it for a moment, wondering when did I start producing this much discharge?

Wrinkling my nose, a bit of me dies because curiosity gets the better of me and I bend over to give it a sniff.

My spine goes straight as my eyes practically bug out like a cartoon character.

I might not be a very sexually active woman as of late, but I know what cum smells like.

I’m shoving them off and tossing them across the room in seconds, grabbing wads of toilet paper and cleaning between my legs like my life depends on it.

Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.

I know what’s going on. I know what happened. What must have happened.

I woke up, went out to drink, met someone at the bar, and hooked up with them. I must have drunk so much I don’t remember.