Nick's POV
"We're screwed…" Georgia muttered, her voice breathless against my chest.
I sat up, reached for the tissue box on the side table, and handed her a few before pulling out and cleaning myself. My brows furrowed. Screwed? What the hell was she talking about?
"What do you mean?" I asked, still distracted by the mess I was trying to wipe away.
She did not answer me. Instead, she shot up, snatched her phone from her bag, tapped furiously, and then shoved the screen right in front of my face. My first thought was if she was mad at me? But why?
I squinted at the screen. A calendar covered in pinks, purples, and flowers. Cute, but confusing as hell.
"What exactly am I looking at?" I asked, clueless, while she started gathering her clothes, her movements rushed, almost frantic.
"Where is your bathroom?" she demanded, her tone sharp, impatient.
