Chapter 18

I wake up with a dry mouth, burning eyes, and a pounding head as the sound of music assaults my senses. Arrick has tunes smashing through the floors as I blink awake and realize I am still on the couch, face down, and the blanket is wrapped around my legs like freaking restraints. I feel like utter shit, and the table is littered with cold pizza and the scraps of a weird middle-of-the-night scramble for food. We ate, fell asleep, and woke up at the same time. Well, stretching out and slapping the back of my hand in his face was the catalyst for his grumpy rise from the dead, and he did try to push me off the sofa in retaliation.

We raided the kitchen for munchies and watched another movie for, like, an hour while grumpily arguing over absolutely pointless crap because we were both tired. In my opinion, Tom Cruise is far hotter with an Irish accent and boxing gloves than he is in either Top Gun or Cocktail. We both must have fallen asleep after that, as everything beyond the ho