The headache hit you first, a dull throb behind your eyes as you shifted under the unfamiliar sheets. Blinking against the bright light streaming through the window, you groaned softly. This wasn’t your bed. Where were you?

Your body ached in that post-party way, and as you turned to your side, you froze. Lying next to you, shirtless and looking far too peaceful, was Drew Starkey.

Your heart raced as last night started coming back in flashes—the club, the drinks, the dancing. Drew had been there, always close, his hand brushing yours, his teasing smile making you blush. You two were friends, sure, but there had always been this flirty undertone. And last night? It had felt different.

You stared at him, willing your memory to fill in the blanks. The way he leaned in at the bar, his voice low and close, teasing you about something. The way he caught you when you stumbled on the dance floor, his hands lingering on your waist. The kiss. Oh God, there had been a kiss.

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut.

As if on cue, Drew stirred, letting out a soft groan. His eyes blinked open, and he turned his head toward you, a lazy smile spreading across his face.

“Morning,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

You swallowed, your cheeks burning. “Morning.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, his hair tousled and unfairly attractive. “How are you feeling?”

“Confused,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Relax. Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Relief flooded through you, though you couldn’t ignore the twinge of disappointment. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He smirked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You passed out the second we got here. I just made sure you were okay.”

“Okay,” you said, exhaling shakily.

He tilted his head, studying you. “But about last night... the kiss?”

Your face flushed, and you looked away. “I—uh—yeah, about that.”

He reached out, gently tilting your chin