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My head. My eyes. I was spinning.
My eyes cracked open and immediately winced at the light.
Where...
Where the hell...
This wasn't my room. The bed was too big. The sheets were too soft. The ceiling looked really expensive.
I sat up too quickly and instantly regretted it. My head pounded like someone was playing drums inside my skull.
"Oh my god..." I whispered, touching my temples. "I'm definitely dying."
Then I noticed something else. I wasn't wearing my dress. My sparkly party dress was on the floor in a glittery heap, and I was left in...
My lace bra.
My lace panties.
I froze.
OH. MY. GOD.
"Did I— did we—?!" I squeaked quietly to myself. Hugging my body.
My face heated up so fast I thought I might pass out. Then I looked around more carefully. A blanket had been thrown over me. My shoes were placed neatly beside the bed. The curtains were partially closed like someone didn't want the sun waking me.
And the room smelled like expensive cologne and... him.
Nico.
Oh god.
Memories hit me in little flashes.
The club.
Drinking.
More drinking.
Laughing with Nessa.
Stumbling.
Someone reaching for me...
And then—
"N-Nico? What the hell... how do we keep seeing each other?"
My face burned.
I remembered him holding me up.
Walking me out.
Carrying me?
Oh. My. GODDDDDD. KILL ME.
I covered my face with my hands and groaned.
"How embarrassing," I whispered into my palms.
I shouldn't have gone out, gotten that drunk.
I shouldn't have—oh god—taken off my dress in front of him.
I peeked out from behind my fingers.
Please tell me he didn't see anything.
Please tell me he wasn't in here when I—
But then I remembered something else.
Sleepy. Warm.
His chest under my ear.
Did I pull him into bed?? Seriously Kill me.
I flopped backward on the pillow, mortified.
"I cannot show my face ever again," I whispered to the ceiling. "I will move countries. Become a goat farmer in Idaho."
I groaned again.
Wait...
Where's Nico?
I sat up slowly, tugged the blanket around myself, and looked toward the door.
I didn't hear anything.
No footsteps.
No voices.
I slipped off the bed and almost fell over but caught myself on the nightstand.
Ow.
I saw an oversized hoodie, his. It smelled like him. I pulled it over my head. It was a dress on me.
My whole body felt like it had been wrung out.
I grabbed my dress off the floor, cringed at the glitter everywhere, then quietly opened the guest bedroom door.
His penthouse was... beautiful.
Modern. Dark. Expensive.
Silent.
"Nico...?" I called softly.
No response.
Of course he wasn't here.
Why would he be?
He probably dumped me in the guest room and ran for his life. I probably scared him. I was so drunk, I probably acted so stupid.
I tiptoed toward the kitchen.
Nothing but a bottle of water, protein bar, and a pain killer left on the counter with a note under it.
My name.
In his handwriting.
I stared at the note way too long. Something warm fluttered in my stomach.
He didn't have to leave water, instructions, and
make sure someone could take me home. He didn't have to do any of it.
But he did.
I sighed and rubbed my forehead.
"Why am I mad at him? Am I mad or confused?" I whispered. "Why am I... everything with him?"
He frustrated me.
Protected me.
Embarrassed me.
Saved me.
Worried me.
And confused me.
And now here I was in his home, hungover, wearing his clothes, talking to myself like a crazy person.
I drank the water, trying not to think too hard.
Trying not to feel too much.
Trying not to remember the way it felt to sleep on his chest.
I needed to go home. See my sister.
I needed to shower.
I needed to pretend none of this happened.
Angelo opened the car door like I was some kind of princess, and honestly, I felt more like a raccoon who had gotten into the trash.
I slid into the passenger seat, still wearing Nico's oversized sweatshirt because I was NOT putting that sparkly dress back on.
"Do you want anything to eat, Miss Daria?" Angelo asked politely as he buckled in. "Mr. Costa told me to get you whatever you like."
My face immediately burned.
"No thanks, Angelo. I... really don't think I can eat anything right now."
He nodded and pulled out of the garage, driving like someone who was definitely trained to do this all the time and also parallel park perfectly.
I stared out the window for a bit before groaning softly.
"Angelo... can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"How—" I cleared my throat. "How drunk was I?"
He didn't even hesitate.
"Very," he said.
I winced. "Like... very?"
He nodded again. "Very."
I covered my face with my hands. "Oh my god."
He kept driving, his expression completely normal, which somehow made it even worse.
"Did you... see me?" I asked, cringing as the words left my mouth.
"Yes," he answered simply.
Kill me.
Kill me now.
I tried again. "Was it... really bad?"
Angelo inhaled like he was choosing his words carefully.
"You were... happy."
"Happy?" I repeated.
"Very happy," he said. "And also falling. A lot."
I groaned and sank lower in the seat.
"And Nico carried me?" I whispered.
"Yes."
I slapped my forehead. "All the way upstairs?"
"Yes."
"All the way into the room?"
"Yes."
"Oh my GOOOOD," I hissed, practically sliding into car seat.
Angelo coughed — which for him was basically a laugh.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You think this is funny."
He kept his eyes forward. "I didn't say that."
But his mouth twitched.
I covered my face again. "I cannot believe this. I cannot believe I let Nico Costa carry me like a... like a floppy drunk noodle."
"He didn't seem to mind," Angelo said casually.
I frowned.
"Wh—what does that mean?"
Angelo didn't look at me, but I swear I saw the ghost of a smile.
"It means," he said carefully, "Mr. Costa is... very patient with you. He's not a normally... patient man."
Patient.
Right.
We pulled up to my house and Angelo parked neatly.
I grabbed the door handle, ready to fling myself into the bushes out of embarrassment.
"Thank you for driving me home," I said quietly.
"Of course, Miss Daria."
He paused.
Then he added, softer:
"Please... take care. He worries."
My breath caught.
I opened my mouth to ask what that meant, but he nodded once, a respectful goodbye, and I had no choice but to step out of the car.
I walked to my door, cheeks burning, heart pounding, stomach flipping like crazy.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to scream...
Throw myself off the porch...
Or crawl back into bed and never think about last night again.
I waved awkwardly before going inside.
Angelo waited until the door shut before driving off.
And I stood in my hallway, face in my hands, whispering to myself:
"I am NEVER drinking again."
Daria is so adorable ????