If anything, it was the silence that got to me. The more my sluggish brain searched for familiar markers and the less the evidence seemed to add up. And then, suddenly, last night's chain of events surged out of the depths of memory. I remembered the club, the non-session after I'd blown Oliver off; I remembered falling asleep in his bed—his actual bed, where he usually slept—once I'd taken all my clothes off for him. I sat up so abruptly I was amazed I didn't give myself whiplash.The room was still dusky, curtains drawn tight over the windows. The bed was empty beside me, but the indent in the pillow seemed to suggest Oliver had lain there for a while, maybe even slept right through the night. I had no memory of that. For all I knew, he'd come to his senses and bounded to safety while I snored.Where did I leave my clothes? Frenzy sunk its claws into my flesh and wouldn't let go. I pushed the covers aside quickly, fumbling in the shadows for the bedside lamp. I hit the switch by accident and the room flooded with enough amber-yellow light to see by.
