I pushed myself up.“Ahh,” I groaned, pressing my palm against my forehead. As though that would stop the headache. It was like putting a Band-Aid over a gunshot wound.I slunk back down to a horizontal position, my stomach clenching.So this was what it was like to be hung over. As far as getting drunk went, I didn’t think the pros outweighed the cons.I blinked against the light, noticing some items set out on the side table that hadn’t been there before—a couple of water bottles, a sleeve of saltine crackers, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a can of ginger ale.And a note.I reached out a shaky hand to grab it.I’ve gathered some hangover supplies for you. Sorry I didn’t stay the whole night—there was a Star Trek marathon I wanted to get back for.—Evan“Oh no,” I moaned.My head fell back against the couch cushion.If I’d been worried about facing him before, how in the world was I going to face him now?*“I can’t go back to work,” I told Alyssa, curled up on the corner of the sofa with my water bottle.
