Josslyn Jacks stumbled out of the dimly lit nightclub, her head pounding like a drum. The music still echoed in her ears—the pulsating beat that had driven her to dance with Oscar Nero-Quartermaine, the boy with eyes like midnight.
"Are you okay?" Oscar steadied her, his touch warm against her clammy skin. His own hangover was evident—the disheveled hair, the faint lines of worry etched on his forehead.
"Champagne," Josslyn mumbled. "Too much damn champagne."
Oscar chuckled. "You're not used to the high life, huh?"
She leaned against the brick wall, the coolness soothing. "I'm more of a soda-and-pizza kind of girl."
"But tonight," Oscar said, "you were Cinderella at the ball."
Josslyn laughed, the sound raw. "Except my fairy godmother forgot to leave me a glass slipper."
They swayed together, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope. Oscar's lips were dangerously close, and Josslyn wondered if this was the hangover talking—the desperate need for connection before reality crashed down.
"You're beautiful," Oscar whispered, his breath warm against her cheek.
"And you're..." Josslyn hesitated. "Complicated."
He grinned. "Aren't we all?"
They stumbled down the alley, away from the glittering crowd. The night air smelled of rain and regret. Josslyn's heart raced—part champagne-induced, part something deeper. She'd lost count of how many times she'd fallen for the wrong guy—the ones with secrets, the ones who left scars.
Oscar leaned against a rusty fire escape, his eyes searching hers. "Josslyn," he said, "I'm not who you think I am."
She laughed bitterly. "None of us are."
But he was different—a puzzle she couldn't solve. His past was a shadow, his future uncertain. And yet, here they were—two hangovers colliding, seeking solace in each other's brokenness.
"Tell me," Josslyn said, "why did you kiss me?"
Oscar's fingers traced her jawline. "Because you looked lost," he confessed. "And I wanted to be lost too."
The rain began to fall, soft and insistent. Josslyn leaned into Oscar's touch, her heart aching. "We're both messes," she said. "But maybe that's okay."
He kissed her then—a slow, desperate kiss that tasted of champagne and longing. The world blurred, and for a moment, they were weightless—two souls seeking refuge from their hangovers, their pain, their fractured lives.
When they finally pulled apart, Josslyn whispered, "What now?"
Oscar's smile was bittersweet. "We find our way back," he said. "Together."
And so they did—two broken hearts stumbling through the rain, seeking redemption in each other's arms.
