No rain, No flowers.

6

The dull pounding in my head felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to my skull. I groaned, shifting on the couch, which was stiffer than I remembered. How did I even end up here? I blinked against the morning light seeping through the curtains, a queasy sensation rising in my stomach. I hadn't felt this hungover in years.

The smell of coffee hung in the air, but the thought of it made my stomach turn. My foggy vision cleared just in time to see a man, shirtless, wearing only a pair of gym shorts, stroll past me as if this were a typical Saturday morning and not the aftermath of whatever catastrophe last night had been. Panic surged through me as I shot upright.

"Hello?" My voice was raspy, barely more than a whisper. But as he turned around, i took a deep exhale as I see who it was.

Vincent.

He turned around, his easy smile breaking through my haze. "Morning, Rose. Want some coffee?" 

He held up a steaming mug, his abs catching the light. the same one from back in high school, the one that made all the girls swoon. He was the type of guy who looked like he belonged in an Abercrombie ad—lean, muscular, a permanent tan from being outside all the time. He was Scarlett's type through and through, not mine. But still, seeing him so casually half-dressed in the middle of my groggy haze wasn't exactly how I expected to start my day.

"No, I—" I cut myself off, holding my head. The sudden rush of memories from last night hit me in disjointed flashes—loud music, bright lights, and then...Anthony. Ugh, and Ben. "I'm good."

"Suit yourself," Vincent said with a wink before walking off toward Scarlett's room. I exhaled, sinking deeper into the couch. A flash of last night came back to me—Anthony's eyes locking with mine, the way his voice dropped when he told me to take care of myself. The memory sent a shiver through me.

With a groan, I forced myself off the couch. My phone and purse were neatly placed on the kitchen counter, as if Past-Rose had had the foresight to gather everything before collapsing for the night. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my texts, heart sinking as I saw a string of messages from Ben. Apologies, of course, because he'd somehow gotten my number, despite me never giving it to him.

I was about to chuck my phone into the abyss when Scarlett burst into the kitchen, her voice piercing through my hangover like a thousand tiny daggers.

"Good morning, my beautiful flower!" she chirped, all sunshine and rainbows, as if she hadn't seen me practically keel over last night. Her blond hair was pulled into a messy lopsided bun.

I gave her a weak smile and winced, closing my eyes as the movement sent a wave of nausea crashing over me.

"Oh damn, that bad, huh?" She gave me a sympathetic look and sat at the kitchen island, nursing her coffee like she'd just returned from a spa retreat. "So, um...Ben texted me this morning. Said he asked for your number so I gave it to him."

I shot her a look that could've set the kitchen on fire, but she just shrugged, taking another sip.

"He didn't say what happened exactly, but I'm guessing it wasn't good. Oh, and Mr. Hot Bar Owner...what was his name again?" She trailed off, watching me intently, waiting for a reaction.

"Anthony," I muttered, the name feeling heavy on my tongue.

Scarlett grinned, her interest immediately piqued. "Anthony." She rolled his name around like it was some delicious secret. "You caught his attention last night, and I was living for it."

I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. Scarlett always had this way of turning my life into her personal entertainment, as if we were part of some reality show and she was the ever-enthusiastic audience.