ARIA'S POV
The alarm shrieking at 5 AM felt like a personal attack.
Aria groaned, reaching blindly for her phone to silence it, and immediately regretted the movement.
Pain. Everywhere.
Her head pounded with the mother of all hangovers. Her mouth tasted like something had died in it. Her muscles ached like she'd run a marathon. And there was a strange soreness between her thighs that made her freeze mid-reach.
What the hell?
She forced her eyes open, squinting against the weak morning light filtering through her curtains. She was in her bed. In her pajamas....wait, no. She was wearing yesterday's bra and panties but nothing else.
When had she undressed? She didn't remember undressing.
Actually, she didn't remember much of anything after... after...
The bar. Morrison's Bar. She'd been drinking with Sarah and the others from work. She remembered wine. Lots of wine. Then vodka. Then...
Her memory cut off like a film with missing reels.
