A rat died at the back of my throat, somehow making it drier than the Sahara in the process. I can only conclude he was trampled by the herd of kangaroos jumping in my brain.

My eyes flutter open, and I immediately regret it, the light setting them on fire. I close them again.

“Ugh, kill me,” I groan.

“That bad, huh?” Lily sounds far too awake. “I thought you only had, like, three or four drinks. Here, take this.”

I chance opening one eye a bit, to see her handing me what looks like a tall glass of orange juice, with two Tylenols. “You’re an angel.”

It’s a struggle, but I make myself sit up, and wash down the pills with a big gulp.

“What you really need is grease. I’m about to head down to breakfast. Wanna come?”

“No,” I reply, because the idea of moving more than I already have in the next forever sounds like torture.

“Well, too bad. You actually do need to eat, or you’ll feel like this all day. Trust me, it’s not my first rodeo. Except mine involved a hell of a lot booze. God, you truly are a lightweight, aren’t you?”

“I hate alcohol. Give me fifteen?”

I drag myself to the bathroom. It’s only after a long hot shower that my brain can think in anything other than garbled groans. Then flashes from yesterday come back to me.

Oh god. What the fuck did I do?

I’m blushing as I brush my teeth, thinking about the way Keller touched me. And I let him. I really did. I mean, I might have said a few words like “shouldn’t,” and “can’t,” and “boyfriend,” but the bottom line was, I didn’t even try to make him stop, or get away from him. I wanted it. Him.

I wish I could blame it all on the booze, but that wouldn’t be truthful. Even now, as my mind replays the way he touched me, I’m not filled with regret as much as craving for more.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am a terrible person.

I know what this means, of course. I need to break up with Noah. I can’t have him as a boyfriend and think about another guy that way. Letting that other guy do what he wanted with me, too.

I distract myself from my personal drama by thinking about the later part of the night. The girl in the pool.

“Have you heard what happened to her?” I ask as I walk out of our small en-suite. “The girl from yesterday. Is she okay?”

“Yeah, I asked Cross first thing this morning. She woke up. Apparently, she’s dealing with some issues at home and wanted to end it all. So fucking sad. Cross says the sharks are going to pay for her therapy. She’s seeing one of them.”

“Oh. Generous of them.”