I croaked. I whipped my hand out from underneath the blanket and felt around on my nightstand. Ignoring the bottle of vodka, I let out a sigh of relief when I found an old water bottle. I slowly took off the cap, brought the rim to my lips and took a sideways sip. I ignored the drizzle running down my chin and onto my pillow. There was no way in hell I was getting up yet. My head would topple over and fall at my feet. I groaned, pressing my blanket over my face, when I heard the antagonizing sound of my phone ringing. I spewed out a string of curse words at it the entire time it rang until it went silent. “Thank you, Jesus,” I grumbled. I slapped my bed when it started to ring again, and tapped around until I found it. “What?” I yelled into it without bothering to look at the caller. “Morning, sunshine,” Weston said, cheerfully. “Screw you.” I hung up and tossed the phone onto the floor.
