I shielded my eyes against the blinding sun, ignored my grumbling stomach, and then all but fell out of bed. What the hell had I been thinking last night? So much of it had this hazy film over it, as if I were seeing it through an out-of-focus lens. I remembered the ritual burning of my rejection letters and skinny-dipping. I remembered the bottle of liquor.
And Penn.
Penn fucking Kensington.
“Fuck,” I groaned into the silence of my bedroom.
Had he really been there last night or had that been some kind of manic dream? Because…it couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be here. He certainly couldn’t be a Kensington. That would be too horrible to consider.
I noticed my laptop was open and lurched toward it. There, in an incoherent babble, was some sort of story I’d written while I was drunk last night. I skimmed through it and groaned some more. Apparently, I’d written out more or less what actually happened after drinking an obscene amount.
Great.
I swiped sleep out of my eyes and slammed the laptop closed. I didn’t want anyone else to see what I’d written. That would be even more humiliating than what had happened the night before.
Snatching up my cell phone, I hastily changed, cleaned myself up, and then stumbled out of my bedroom. All of the doors were closed on the way to the living room. In fact, there was no sign at all that anyone had been there. The bottles had all been picked up. Nothing was on the tables. The pillows were all exactly how I had left them. No indents in the couch cushions.
I shook my head in confusion.
Had I been that drunk?
I had an active imagination. I made up stories in my free time. But I couldn’t have made last night up. Could I?
The kitchen was similarly empty and pristine. But when I pulled out the drawer for the trash, the bottle of bourbon was there as well as an empty bottle of champagne. I had a vague recollection of having champagne. That would explain the headache.
Okay, I wasn’t totally insane. People had been here. I’d actually seen Penn and his insanely incredible friends. So…where were they?
My phone told me it was already noon. They’d stayed up later than me. Were they all still asleep?
I had no interest in opening doors to find out if anyone was still around. It was easier to assume that they’d just vanished as quickly as they’d appeared the night before. Penn had said that they might just go somewhere else. Maybe they had.
Fuck, I didn’t know.
Part of me hoped they were gone. I had clearly been drunk off my ass last night to be able to keep up with them at all. They were all on another plane of existence. I was here, watching Penn’s mom’s house for a living while I got unlimited rejections from my agent’s assistant. Not even from my agent. They were all off, living these wonderful lives and making millions or whatever.
The other part of me wished that they’d stayed. Not for Penn. Though the man was sexy as hell, he was still on my shit list. But I really did like his friends. I liked the bond the crew had and how they’d survived all these years together. To feel a part of that for even a second had been exciting.
I’d only ever had one real friend. And I was certain that Amy would probably want to hear about this.
I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and dialed her number.
“Hey,” Amy drawled lazily. “How’s the new place?”
I laughed. “It’s…interesting.”
“Why do I feel like that’s sarcasm?”
“So…remember that guy from Paris?”
“The one you gave your V-card to?”
I nodded my head and plopped down on the couch. “Uh-huh. Penn, the douche who had sex with me and then ghosted.”
“Right. The, like, sexiest man alive who gave you a dozen orgasms and who you still begrudgingly claim is the best you’ve ever had.”
“Well…” I grumbled, hanging my head. Leave it to Amy to bring up that shit right now. “He’s here.”
“What?” Amy shrieked.
I wrenched the phone away from my ear. “Hangover. Take it down a notch.”
“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. What do you mean, he’s there? How can he be there?”
“Turns out, Penn is actually Penn Kensington.”
Amy chuckled, and then it turned into a full-body laugh. “Oh, this is too good. He’s the mayor’s son?”
“He is. And he showed up here last night with his friends.”
“Did you fuck him?”
“What? No, of course not! He was an asshole. I have no interest in him.”
“But you’re in a dry spell!”
“No! Amy, focus. I am working for his mother. There’s no way that is happening.”
“Fine. So, what are you going to do?” Amy asked.
“I don’t know. Avoid him?”
Amy laughed. “Girlfriend, a guy like that cannot be avoided.”