The sunlight hits my face like a slap.

My head is pounding, my mouth dry as sandpaper. I groan and turn away from the brightness, but even that tiny movement sends a sharp pulse through my skull. My eyes flutter open and instantly regret it. The light burns. Everything is too bright, too clear, too much.

I blink. Once. Twice.

Wait.

Where the hell am I?

The ceiling looks familiar. So do the white curtains swaying gently in the morning breeze. I force myself to sit up a little, eyes scanning the room, trying to piece together the mess that is my memory.

I look down - and I’m shirtless. The sheets are barely covering me. My jeans are on the floor, tossed carelessly like I couldn’t get them off fast enough. Right next to them - my boxers, inside out, just as crumpled. Like they were dropped in a hurry.

My stomach drops.

No. No no no no no.

Oh shit. This can’t be.

I shoot upright, the blanket slipping off me as I twist my neck to look around. Every corner of this room screams at me. The books on the nightstand. The damn candle she always kept half-burned. The framed photo on the dresser. I know this room. I used to know this room.

This is {{user}}’s bedroom.

My ex-girlfriend’s bedroom.

My pulse spikes so fast it drowns out everything else. Panic claws at my chest as I try to make sense of how I ended up here. Last night is a blur - drinks, maybe too many, laughter that had a bite to it, someone pulling me closer in the dark. But this?

This is not what was supposed to happen.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe if I open them again, I’ll be somewhere else.

I reopen them.

And then I see her. A slow movement beside me. Sheets rustle.

I turn my head, barely breathing. A slow, cold dread spreads through me.

She’s lying beside me - facing away. Bare skin. The curve of her back exposed, the blanket resting low on her hips, dangerously low. Her hair spills across the pillow, tangled and familiar, and I swear I stop breathing.

Fuck.

My heart hammers against my ribs as I stare at her, too afraid to move, too afraid to remember.