Still Got It

Chapter Eleven

M ortified wasn’t the word. Horrifically embarrassed, totally ashamed and completely furious with herself were nearer the mark. Grace turned over in bed and attempted to open her eyes. Even the sliver of light coming in through the shutters was too much. She closed her eyes again and lay on her back. Her stomach was doing somersaults and her head pounded. The events of the previous evening came back to her in glorious Technicolor.

She’d virtually thrown herself at a colleague, been rescued by a smirking Will and, to top it all, informed him he was gay, when he clearly wasn’t. Things couldn’t get much worse. Her mind snagged on the words. It was a silly expression because she knew from personal experience that they could. Way worse. No one had died. She had to stop feeling sorry for herself.

That ouzo had a lot to answer for. Even the thought of it turned her stomach, and she was sure if she as much as smelt it again, she’d be sick on the spot. She’d had a similar experience as a teenager with Pernod, and after snogging a neighbour’s son, she’d passed out in their garage, been escorted home by her unsmiling father and vowed never to touch the stuff again. The aniseed thing was obviously a theme.