“That was cool.” Luke yawned. “Let’s get food. I’m hungry.”
“We literally ate like half an hour ago,” Kris snapped.
“We don’t have to get a full meal, just snacks,” Luke said in a conciliatory voice.
Blake expected the rest of the group to walk on eggshells around Kris, but Luke? That was a shocker.
They pushed their way through the crowd toward the vendors selling Spring Festival snacks such as steamed niangao cakes, glutinous rice dumplings wrapped in bamboo leaves, and various sweets.
Blake followed Farrah through the crowds,
too lost in his thoughts to navigate on his own.
Blake cracked his eyes open.
That was a mistake.
The sunlight pierced his retinas like lasers and intensified the pounding in his head. He slammed his eyes shut.
A raspy groan filled the room. It took him a minute to realize it came from him.
Where the hell was he? What day was it?
Blake tried to piece together the events of last night, but all he could remember was arriving at Landon’s party, drinking, arguing with Joy, drinking, talking to Cleo, drinking, and…that was it. He couldn’t remember the fireworks or what he did when the clock struck midnight.
Blake groaned again. He turned on his side so he faced away from the windows and tried opening his eyes again. Better. Sort of.
“I am never drinking alcohol again,” he muttered.
“That’s what you always say.”
Blake jerked his head up and looked over his shoulder. The bright light hit him in full force, but it was nothing compared to the dread that slammed into his body when his eyes confirmed what his brain knew.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Cleo stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. Her damp hair fell past her shoulders in tight curls. A towel wrapped around her body, barely large enough to cover the necessary bits.
“What are you doing here?” Blake’s eyes adjusted to the light, and he realized he was in one of the Zinterhofers’ suites. They always set aside a few rooms for guests who were too intoxicated to drive home after one of their New Year’s parties.
“Showering, silly.” Cleo dropped her towel. He averted his gaze.
She laughed at his reaction. “Come on. It’s not anything you haven’t seen before.” He heard rather than saw her get dressed. “You can look now.
“What happened last night?” The pounding in his head intensified. Blake rubbed his temple. “We didn’t—did we—” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
There was a pause. “You don’t remember?”
If I did, I wouldn’t be asking you.
Blake bit his tongue. Hangovers made him moody as shit. “I don’t remember anything after our third—” Fourth? “—shot.”
Cleo blinked. Her eyes glowed bright green in the sunlight. A thousand emotions flickered over her face, too fast for him to discern a single one of them.
“We’re friends. Right?”
“Right.” Blake tried to smile. The jackhammers in his head multiplied. “Think of all the friendship toasts we had yesterday.”
She half-laughed, half-snorted. “Yeah. So you really don’t remember what happened last night?”
Unease unfurled in his stomach. “No…”