Even before I open my eyes, I take stock of the damage: my mouth is dry and sticky, my head pounding, and my body drained. All evidence of a very good night. My lips are still puffy and raw from the marathon make-out session with Anthony, and it took every ounce of self-control I possess to keep it from going further once we left the club. Stella’s bravery is rubbing off on me a little, but not so much that I’m ready for a one-night stand. I pad to the kitchen barefoot and drain a massive glass of water, then root through Gavin’s bathroom in search of ibuprofen. Success. More water, then coffee, and I’m feeling sort of human again. I open the terrace doors and enjoy the cool breeze nipping through my T-shirt. Jasper baroos to tell me I can’t just roll back into bed for another few hours of recovery. I scrub off my raccoon-eyed makeup, throw on workout clothes and running shoes, and take him to the park.
