Pecan's pov
I lay in bed, my body aching in places I didn't even know existed. The events of the day had drained me, both physically and mentally. That damned drink was still playing havoc with my insides. I could still taste the vile, bitter substance, as if it was coating the back of my throat. It was like the kind of thing you'd never forget, a lingering reminder of my brief moment of victory. But what a victory it had been. A win in front of the queen, and yet... all I could feel now was the aftershock, my body rebelling against the stupidity of it all.
Groaning, I shifted under the covers, the cool sheets sticking to my skin in all the wrong ways. I wasn't sure if it was the drink or the whole situation that had me feeling off. My head was spinning, and not just from the intoxication; I couldn't help but think about what had happened afterward. The kiss. Paul's kiss.
