“Quince, are you in there? You better open this door or I’m coming in.” Jenna is better than an alarm clock. And much more annoying. I roll over and realize I am alone in the bed. He left. He left without saying goodbye. I sit up and look around. Every trace of him is gone. What happened to discussing this in the morning? “Yeah, yeah. Come on in.” I mumble, and each word echoes inside my head. I didn’t drink that much, but I know this must be what a hangover feels like. Jenna bursts into the room, a woman on a mission. “You weren’t in the room you were supposed to be in, and you weren’t answering your phone. I was about to call the police.” So, now she’s worried about me. She sits on the bed beside me, “So what happened?” “Well, someone either took my room or locked me out last night.” I’m still confused as to how I ended up in Brody’s bed. But I’m glad I did.
