And came face-to-face with Taylor. They stood there, staring at each other in the dark. Taylor’s eyes shifted to the door of Logan’s room, then back to Nicole’s face. “Holy shit,” she breathed and grabbed Nicole’s arm. She started down the hall toward the kitchen, dragging Nicole with her. Oh-oh. How the hell was she going to explain this? “What are you doing up so early?” Nicole asked when Taylor flipped on the kitchen light. She’d glanced at the clock beside Logan’s bed when she’d climbed out to go back to her own room and it was only six thirty. “I have a headache,” Taylor said. “I shouldn’t have drunk that red wine last night, it always gives me a headache.” She opened a cupboard and grabbed a bottle of painkillers. Nicole leaned against the counter, rubbing her upper arms below the sleeves of the big T-shirt she’d grabbed from a chair in Logan’s room. “Great, you have a hangover. I have a bangover.” Her thighs and hips ached, her skin was abraded and she’d hardly slept at all.
