Dirty Little Secret (GxG)

Season 2, Chapter 12

Sandra's POV

The moment I opened my eyes, a pounding headache greeted me, as if a tiny marching band had taken residence inside my skull. The blinding sunlight filtering through my curtains made everything worse. Groaning, I buried my face into my pillow, silently cursing myself for whatever I drank last night.

Note to self: never, ever celebrate with Miles again.

I felt like I had been hit by a truck. Slowly, I reached for my phone, squinting at the screen. I needed to find a remedy for this hangover—some miracle cure that could fix the damage I had done to my body. My mind was still foggy, but I vaguely remembered ordering pizza for the entire office as part of my "celebration." That seemed innocent enough.

But as I scrolled through articles about hangover cures, something caught my eye—something horrifying.

Dria Eduardo
Last night: 10:42 PM

Text message... Oh no.
And... a call?! What the—?

My heart skipped a beat. No, no, no. This had to be a mistake. I didn't—I couldn't have. Right? Please tell me I didn't contact Dria in my drunken stupor. But the call logs and the messages were staring back at me like a grim reminder of my stupidity.

I clicked on the text thread first, dreading what I might find.

"Heyyy Driaaaaa, jus' wanna say you're the BEST and like, I miss u? I never stoppped... stoppd... stoppped lovving u, even tho I was... a jerkface? Ur like... sunflower in my soul. 🌻"

My blood ran cold. Sunflower in my soul?! What the hell did that even mean? Where did that come from? Who was I last night? Why didn't Miles stop me?!

Panicking, I scrolled up to see Dria's response, terrified that I had somehow ruined everything.

Dria: "What...?"

I slapped my forehead. Great. Just great.

But then it got worse. Oh no. Oh no no no—there was a phone call after the text. Please, for the love of all things sacred, let it be a short call.

I checked the call duration: 3 minutes and 47 seconds. It felt like the world was collapsing in on me. I had no memory of this call, no idea what I had said to Dria, and now, everything was a blur. I could've confessed my love, declared her my one true soulmate, or worse... babbled on about sunflowers again.

The weight of my stupidity hit me like a freight train.

"Oh god, oh no, oh no," I muttered, pacing around my room. My hands were clammy, and my face felt like it was on fire. The full force of my embarrassment was sinking in. I couldn't believe I had texted her that and then called her. Why didn't anyone confiscate my phone last night?!

I scrolled back to the message, trying to remember exactly how drunk I had been when I typed it. I winced at every word. Sunflower in my soul? What am I, a lovesick poet from the 19th century? Why did I always ruin everything when I drank?

Now what? How could I possibly recover from this? I mean, Dria had texted back, so that's... something. But what if she thinks I'm an absolute lunatic? She probably does. There's no other explanation. She was probably laughing at me with her friends right now, sharing screenshots of my embarrassing confession.

I needed to fix this. Damage control. But how?

Okay, Sandra, breathe. Just... breathe. You're a CEO. You deal with high-stakes decisions all the time. How hard could it be to fix a drunk text?