“What? The party?” I looked around. Yes, these people were strangers, but we’d all shared something, a milestone of sorts, and there was a kind of camaraderie in it. And someone had started playing dance music from the 90s, which was impossible to resist.

I shook my head. “No way. We haven’t danced together yet!” Then I pulled a giggling Siobhan towards the makeshift dance floor, Paddy and Josh following close behind. “Gonna Make You Sweat” by C&C Music Factory started playing, and Siobhan and I squealed, then grabbed hands and jumped up and down in the way grown women do when they’re tipsy—okay, drunk—and they find out they love dancing to the same song.

The guys joined us—in the dancing, not the squealing and jumping up and down—and Siobhan I shared grins as we danced in the year. I had a feeling it was going to be a great one.

Chapter 17

The alarm bleated like an impaled lamb. I rolled over, threw my arm across my eyes, and groaned.

Well, this is a crappy start to the year.

Why had I promised Siobhan we’d have breakfast together? At eight in the morning on New Year’s Day? After we’d stayed at the party ’til two, dancing, and we’d had two more drinks after midnight?

Because I was a moron.

Also, because she was my friend—our friend—and I adored her, and she was flying out in a few hours.

“Are you awake?” I asked Josh, feeling him stir beside me.

“Yeah.” He sounded about as enthusiastic as I felt.

“Then can you please turn off that noise?” Sleep-deprived and slightly hungover Sarah is delightful, by the way. Josh turned off the alarm. It was me who’d insisted he set it, so I had no right to be grumpy with him. I mumbled a half-assed, “Sorry.”

He rolled onto my side of the bed and played with one of my wayward curls. “No problem. You want the first shower?”

I removed my arm from my face and blinked at him through the slits of my eyes. “You’re a god.” He smiled. He looked way better than I felt, and I reminded myself I was quite a bit older than him. My partying days are OVER! I’m past it! Sleep-deprived and slightly hungover Sarah is also a drama queen.

I rolled out of bed and dragged myself to the bathroom, then stood under a lukewarm shower until I started to feel some semblance of humanity return.

Why, oh why, do I never learn this lesson? I was fairly certain I’d only had one drink too many. I’d been hoping to keep the warm, fuzzy buzz from the evening’s cocktails going, but it’s always the last drink you should talk yourself out of, isn’t it?

“We’re meeting Siobhan in twenty minutes,” called out my pseudo-boyfriend.

“Okay!” I called back. I turned off the shower and dried off, only then daring to look in the mirror above the sink. To my utter surprise, it wasn’t that bad. My hair had behaved itself—for my hair—and was still in its cascading curls. The only tell that I’d spent most of the night out, was some shadowing under my eyes, which I covered with concealer. I rubbed some cream blush into my cheeks, added a few flicks of mascara, tidied my brows with a little brush, and wiped on a slick of lip gloss.