18
The afternoon sun filtered through Amanda's blinds, casting an annoying glow over her face as she groaned, rolling onto her stomach. Her head pounded with a vengeance, a dull ache that pulsed behind her eyes, reminding her of every reckless decision she had made the night before.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the pain away, but it was useless. Slowly, she reached for her phone, squinting at the screen as she unlocked it.
The first thing she noticed was the time.
2:17 PM.
She never slept this late. Ever.
The second thing she noticed was the flood of unread messages.
Ten from Samantha.
She exhaled, already dreading what she was about to read.
Samantha: Babe.
Samantha: Are you awake yet?
Samantha: YOU NEED TO WAKE UP.
Samantha: I have THOUGHTS.
Samantha: I have QUESTIONS.
Samantha: I NEED ANSWERS.
Samantha: You were INCHES away from full-blown seduction on the dance floor.
Samantha: ARE YOU KIDDING ME??????
Samantha: WAKE UP.
Samantha: ALSO. CHECK YOUR OTHER MESSAGES.
Amanda frowned. Other messages?
Her eyes trailed down, and she felt her breath catch slightly when she saw it.
One message from Ericka.
For a moment, she just stared at the notification, as if her brain needed time to prepare for whatever awaited her. Finally, she tapped the screen.
Ericka: Hungover?
Amanda groaned and dropped her phone onto her face.
This couldn't be real.
Samantha's texts were bad enough, but Ericka? Ericka had texted her?
And worse—it was casual. Too casual. Like last night hadn't been the most confusing, mind-scrambling, possibly life-altering experience Amanda had gone through in months.
Dragging her hand down her face, she forced herself to respond.
Amanda: Define hungover.
The message sent, and within seconds, the typing bubbles appeared.
She swallowed.
Ericka: I take it that's a yes.
Amanda let out a slow breath, staring at the screen.
She was never drinking again.
Except, if this was going to be her life now—navigating whatever strange dynamic had begun between her and Ericka—maybe she needed another drink just to process it.
Amanda tossed her phone onto the bed and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Her brain still felt foggy, the remnants of tequila refusing to let her fully wake up.
She needed water. And coffee. And maybe an entire meal.
With a groan, she forced herself to sit up, wincing at the way her body protested. Every muscle ached, a not-so-gentle reminder of how much she had danced last night.
Danced with Ericka.
The thought hit her like a delayed slap.
She groaned again, rubbing her temples. No. She wasn't going to spiral. Not over this.
But then she remembered the way Ericka had looked at her. The way she had moved, so effortlessly, so naturally, like she belonged on that dance floor just as much as she did in a boardroom. The memory sent a strange shiver down Amanda's spine—one she wasn't ready to analyze.
Her phone buzzed again.
Another message from Ericka.
Ericka: Drink water. You'll survive.
Amanda huffed out a laugh despite herself. Leave it to Ericka to treat a hangover like a simple task to be managed.
Amanda: Is that medical advice?
The typing bubbles appeared almost instantly.
Ericka: Practical advice. But if you'd like me to call a doctor, I could.
Amanda rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Amanda: I'll survive, but thanks for the concern.
She hesitated before sending it, wondering if she was reading too much into things. Maybe this was just Ericka's version of checking in, making sure her assistant was still functional before Monday.
Maybe it meant nothing.
Still, something about the way the conversation flowed so easily made her stomach flip in an unfamiliar way.
A second later, another message popped up.
Ericka: Good. I'd hate for last night's victory to take you out completely.
Amanda raised an eyebrow.
Amanda: Victory?
Ericka: You dared me. I showed up. That means I won.
Amanda scoffed, shaking her head.
Amanda: I don't think that's how dares work.
Ericka: It is when I play.
Amanda chewed on her lip, staring at the screen longer than necessary before finally typing out a response.
Amanda: Then what's the next challenge?
The moment she sent it, her stomach clenched.
Too much?
Too flirty?
Too dangerous?
But the typing bubbles appeared again, and Amanda swore she felt her heartbeat in her throat.
Ericka: You'll have to wait and see.
Amanda exhaled, tossing her phone onto the bed before she could fall deeper into whatever this was.
Whatever game they had started last night?
It wasn't over.