Sarah Reynolds doesn't believe in love. To her the myth of love belongs in fairy tale stories for little girls. She knows sex and money make the world go round.
Matthew Weiss is a tough bodyguard who isn't interested in meeting the right girl. He i...
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My mouth was like sandpaper when I woke up. It took one eye open to survey my surroundings to confirm I was in my bed. Thank goodness. My hand went to my throbbing head.
I had drunk too much last night. When memories from the night began to flood back I covered my face with my pillow, feeling mortified. I'd practically thrown myself at Matthew and he had turned me down. My already fragile ego was even more dented now. With Matthew, I was always on the back foot, unsure of how things would unfold.
The easiest route would have been to hide out in my bed, ignoring what happened. But I couldn't allow it to eat at me. I dragged myself out of bed and to the kitchen to find some painkillers. A quick look at the clock that hung on the wall told me it was after eleven already.
I poured myself some water to drink with the tablets and gulped them down, emptying the glass of water.
My phone started to ring. I followed the sound to my bedroom and found my cell on my side table. It was a number I didn't recognize, maybe it was Matthew. Last night he had told me he would call. I ignored it, holding my phone in my hand as it continued to ring. Eventually it stopped. I wasn't ready to face him yet. I put my phone down by the sofa and went to take a shower.
Afterward I pulled on sweats and a shirt. My phone rang for a second time, but this time it was my mom.
"Hi, Mom," I said as I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder while I rummaged through my kitchen cupboards looking for something to eat.
"Hi, baby," she said in a voice that was far too cheerful for my current state.
"Not so loud, Mom," I mumbled, trying to ease the sudden pounding in my head that had been caused by her high-pitched voice.
"Did you go out last night?" she asked, probably already knowing just from the sound of my voice that I was struggling with a hangover.
"Yeah," I breathed quietly.
I couldn't find anything to eat. My cupboards were nearly empty. I wasn't good at keeping my kitchen stocked, I was usually too busy with everything else to worry about grocery shopping. I closed the cupboard door and sighed. All I had was some cereal and coffee. A quick look in the fridge confirmed I was out of milk.
"What are you doing?" my mom asked.
"Looking for food." I waited for the lecture.
"I keep telling you to stock up when you do your grocery shopping. Then at least you don't have to grocery shop often and you'd still have food in your kitchen."
I rolled my eyes as I listened to the same lecture I'd received countless times. I knew it all by heart, but I didn't interrupt my mom. She was doing it because she loved and cared about me.
"I know, Mom," I agreed. "I'll try to do that next time."
We didn't talk for too much longer. At least by the time I said goodbye my head was feeling better. The painkillers I had taken were starting to kick in.
