The Difference Between Getting and Needing

t w e n t y - n i n e

they say they watched us fall apart
but couldn't find u s . . .

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Without even having to open my eyes, I knew I was in Gus' room. I could feel it in my gut that I did something incredibly stupid last night. Something like get belligerently drunk at my sister's wedding and sleep with my ex-boyfriend.

I wasn't even sure if drunk was the right word for it. Trashed? Plastered? Nineteen sheets to the wind? Absolutely out of my fucking mind? Either way, it wasn't good.

In my defense, I was so far gone that I couldn't even keep track of what day it was, let alone keep my hormones and emotions under control. Sensible Bayla checked out the second I took my first shot of Patrón and started fantasizing about Gus and I in ways I hadn't done in years. Whoever took her place was someone I hadn't met and hoped to never see again.

If I thought my hangover was bad on the morning of my flight – when I still had to finishing packing after Collin and I drained all the whiskey from the bar the night before – this was on an entirely different end of the spectrum. This was hell.

It took me a few minutes to gain some sort of consciousness, eyes still sealed shut as the scrambled remains of my brain recognized the aching in the lower half of my body. I could barely shift positions or even begin to fathom what was happening between my legs. The throbbing pretty much explained it all. As if that wasn't enough, the churning in my stomach that caused an outbreak of sweat on my forehead told me I'd encounter my good friend tequila again all too soon.

I considered keeping my eyes closed for the rest of my life, leaving the bed only if the hotel staff physically removed me from it themselves, but I was too curious and I couldn't remember a single thing about my night. I needed to assess the damage, no matter how ugly it was about to get.

Gulping as if that was going to somehow make me not want to throw up on myself, I peeled open my eyes and let my vision adjust to the dark room. The only source of light was a sliver of morning sun coming through the space where the blackout curtains didn't quite meet in the middle. The windows were directly in front of me and it was the only thing I could look at with my crusty eyelashes still caked in leftover makeup from the wedding.

Once I regained the ability to see and feel, I noticed that I was swaddled beneath the comforter, but I wasn't completely naked. I was wearing one of the fluffy white robes that belonged to the hotel. Though it was diminishing in no time, at least I had a shred of dignity left.

A single, ragged snore sliced right through the deafening silence that hung in the room. Shit.

For as long as we'd been together, Gus and I had assigned sides of the bed. Mine was the left, his was the right. That being said, I found it odd that I was sleeping on the right side.

Now that I knew he was definitely in the room with me and we were sleeping in the same bed, I was dying for some recollection of last night. Even if it was the tiniest trace of a memory just from seeing his face. I figured I was already at rock bottom, so how much worse could it really get?

I was struck with the realization that yes, it could get so, so much fucking worse when I rolled over and saw Collin's sleeping silhouette on the other side of the mattress.

All I could do was gape at the shirtless golden boy sprawled out next to me, immobile and looking utterly at peace. I was transfixed by the fact that for the life of me, I couldn't remember anything that happened after Gus and I had our anticlimactic slow dance at the reception. The only clues I had were Collin and I in the same bed, both likely naked or close to it because frankly I was too scared to find out if he had anything on under the covers, and that tenderness in the center of my body that only meant one thing.