My head was killing me. That was my first thought as my body reluctantly stirred into consciousness. I’d been having the weirdest dream, actually, the sexiest dream. I’d been arguing with Jude. About what, I wasn’t too sure, but our argument had ended with us having sex up against a wall. And it had been delicious. I couldn’t remember any other details, but I knew it’d been good. Real good.

But my reality was far from good. I groaned as I attempted to sit up and told myself that I’d never drink again. The room began to spin because my head hurt so badly, and I collapsed back down onto the pillows letting out a long sigh. I closed my eyes, willing the sunlight that peeked through the blinds to go away. I was far too weak to deal with life today and my head felt like it would fall off. Perhaps I’ll just stay here... forever.

I opened my eyes and looked around. I blinked once and then again. Where the heck was I? I closed my eyes, counted to ten and then opened them again, assuming that I was dreaming. I was definitely not in my hotel room. I had no clue where I was and I forced myself not to panic.

“Ugggghhhhhhh.”

My body went still and all thoughts about controlling my panic disappeared as fear took over. I was fairly confident that I wasn’t the one who had groaned unless the hangover I was experiencing was making me hallucinate.

“Ughhhhhhhh…” came the noise again. And this time I was sure it wasn’t me. Oh God, I’d been kidnapped and my kidnapper was coming for me!

With all the strength I could muster, I tossed myself off the bed and hit the floor with a thud. I tried to hide myself by rolling under the bed, but realized I wouldn’t ever fit with my gigantic butt.

I heard the groan again. In panic, I reached for the first thing my hand landed on. A shoe. Armed with it, I crawled around the bed, trying to be quiet, ignoring the pounding headache. I could see the door from where I was positioned and I made a quick decision to leave the crouching position I was currently in.

I jumped up with the shoe and ran to the door, only realizing as I was about to open it that I was completely naked except for the sheet that was wrapped around me.

I heard the groaning again and realized someone was in the bed I’d just left. I wasn’t stopping to find out who it was, so with shaky hands, I pried open the lock and deadbolt and made a dash for the hallway.

I ran as fast as I could and I heard someone yell from behind me, “Hey!”

I didn’t turn around. I wasn’t interested. Luckily the elevators were at the end of the hall, and I hit both buttons, not caring if it took me up or down.

“Lacey! Wait!” A voice called out for me and I looked back, not expecting the sight that greeted me—Jude completely naked standing in the hall with his hands on his hips looking confused and annoyed.

My mouth opened and then closed. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. And before I could figure out my next course of action, the elevator opened and I stepped on, wrapping my sheet as close to my body as possible.

“Where are you—”

He didn’t get another word out as the elevator doors closed and I breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently, I hadn’t been kidnapped. I hadn’t been in danger, but I had indeed made a very, very bad decision.

It took me a few minutes before I remembered I was in my hotel. Or should I say, Oliver Foster’s hotel.

I stepped into the lobby, more concerned that a naked Jude would follow me there than the fact that I was walking around like a crazy woman with one shoe in her hand and wearing a sheet as a dress. I’d done my best to make it look like a toga while I was in the elevator, but given the amount of space everyone who got into the elevator gave me, I was guessing my makeshift toga wasn’t very convincing.

I took a look around trying to get my bearings and not freak out when a warm voice said, “Good morning, Lacey.”

It was the concierge, Renee. I felt my cheeks turn red. I was probably bruised from my fight with Tanya. I was wearing a sheet. I was dirty. I was carrying one shoe. I looked at it, like really looked at it for the first time. At least it was my own, I thought with a sigh.

“Are you okay?” Renee asked me as she looked at my sheet wrapped body.

“Fine. Dandy. I’m just going to make my way back upstairs....” I tried to make small talk as I stood there and waited for the elevator to come back down.

“So I guess Hank has the day off?”

She shook her head. “He’ll be in later. He had car trouble. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?” I felt so bad. She looked so concerned, but what was I supposed to say? Keep naked Jude away from me?

“Uhhh... no, everything’s fine. I just lost my shoe. Thought I might have left it downstairs,” I lied unconvincingly.

Renee gave me one last look, a small confused smile and then walked away. Finally, the elevator binged and I climbed on, thankful that I would finally escape to my room when a hand reached out and caught the elevator stopping it.

I sighed in frustration. Great, another person to witness my humiliation. In vain, I tried to adjust the sheet that was pooling around my ankles and prepared myself emotionally for the uncomfortable stares I was sure I would get.

To my surprise, it was Hank. He was kind enough to pretend he didn’t notice my strange attire. We chatted about nothing and I was so grateful when we reached my floor.

As I walked out, I dropped my shoe and he graciously recovered it for me saying with a wink, “Don’t worry, miss. What happens in Vegas—”

“Stays in Vegas. Thanks for the reminder, Hank.”

I waved bye and hurriedly made my way to my room. I knew from talking to Hank that it was still really early, not yet 7 in the morning. I just wanted to sneak back into my room before the girls woke up and saw me.

I knew I’d get lots of questions, but I couldn’t face them like this. This was worse than the walk of shame. This was like the marathon of shame.

I got to the door and realized with a sinking heart that I didn’t have my key. Resigned, I knocked and then knocked again. I waited a few minutes and when no one showed up, I knocked again harder.

I heard the sound of the chain being removed from the door and sighed in relief as the door opened.

“Thank you,” I said to Misha who didn’t look in the least concerned that I was standing in the hallway wrapped in a sheet.

“I can explain.”

“You don’t need to. I already did,” came a voice from inside. I knew that voice and I felt my head pounding at the sound of it. Or maybe that was the hangover. I didn’t know.

“Jude,” I said shortly, trying to muster some dignity as I stuck my nose in the air haughtily. “What are you doing here?”

He was standing in the living room of our hotel suite, relaxed and handsome. And of course, well put together. It pissed me off that I was the one looking like an escapee from an insane asylum and he looked like a young version of Patrick Dempsey.

“I’m just returning this,” he said, holding up my shoe. “I guess you left it in your haste, Cinderella.”

His tone was mocking and I wanted to punch him. I refrained. I’d been in enough fights in Vegas. I didn’t need to lose another one.

I walked over to him as gracefully as I could. I heard a noise from Misha and realized that she was trying to cover up a giggle. I shot her a cold look and she promptly exploded in giggles.

My lips tightened and I moved to snatch the shoe from Jude’s hands. He pulled his hand back at the last minute and said, “Hey, no snatching. Play nice. I’m sure you were raised better than that.”

I rolled my eyes and snatched the shoe out of his hand. “Thanks. Now go.”

“We need to talk,” he said trailing behind me as I made my way to my room.

“We have nothing to talk about...”

I then shot a glare at Misha, “I can’t believe you let him in.”

Her eyes grew wide in disbelief and she said pointedly, “I can’t believe you let him in... either... if you know what I mean.”

“Nice, Misha. Real mature,” I said, knowing I was misdirecting my anger. She wasn’t the one I was mad at. No, only Jude deserved my indignation and anger, so I turned on him.

I poked him in the chest with my finger. “You need to leave right now! I’ve had enough of you and your shenanigans. Ever since I met you I’ve gotten into one stupid situation after another and you know what the common denominator is?”

“Uhh—”

“You!” I said, poking him with more force. “I wish I hadn’t said yes to your father, because it’s been one nightmare after another.”

“And I’m to blame for that? I’ve spent the last 24 hours saving you from yourself.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re a hypocrite. You pretend to be all respectable and saintly, when you’re just like the rest of us... except you’re undersexed and uptight. Well, not anymore. Not after last night.”

I smacked him across the chest with one of the shoes. “How dare you judge me! You don’t even know me. You’re just a spoiled rich boy with too much time on his hands. I mean look at you, your father is dying and where are you? Here! In Vegas! Partying! Preying on innocent women—”

“Innocent?” he spat out. “You’re far from innocent. You had your hands down my pants before we even left the bar.”

“Liar!” I yelled, but instantly felt guilty. He was right. As soon as he said it I remembered doing it.

“Stop being a prude,” he said hotly. “God, I like you better when you’re drunk.”

"I can barely stomach you when I’m sober so I’m sure drunk me was a real peach.”

“You’re less of a drab, self-pitying shrew when you’re drunk.”

God, I wanted to hit him again.

“Pity? You want to talk about pity? I only had drinks with you because I pitied you. I said to myself, ‘What type of guy goes to Vegas alone and follows his dad’s assistant around?’ A loser, that’s who,” I said, stomping further into my room. I tried to close the door and he caught it. He looked angry. I determinedly didn’t back down from his glare and met it head on.

“Oh, that’s rich, so I’m the loser? That makes me just your type then. That’s your specialty, losers, right? Date a loser to make yourself feel better so that you don’t have to deal with your own shortcomings and insecurities. When are you going to stop being a scared little girl and grow up?”

“You’re one to talk, a washed-up soccer player living off of daddy’s money, too busy whoring to hold down a real job. Yeah, you’re definitely one to talk.”

“That’s what you think of me?”

“Wrong. I don’t think about you at all.”

“Funny, that’s not what you said last night.”

Bits and pieces of our night together between the sheets flashed across my mind. I felt embarrassment starting to replace my anger, but I needed my anger, otherwise Jude would know just how much last night’s events had unnerved me.

“Last night I was drunk. You got me drunk.” My accusation was false. I remembered ordering more and more drinks at the bar. It had all been my doing and I remember distinctly that Jude had told me to slow down and I had scoffed at him and yelled, “We’re in Vegas, baby!”

He called me out on my lie. “That’s bull and you know it.”

Angrily, I tried to shut the door again and he caught it.

“Just leave me alone!”

“Trust me, Lacey, I would love to, but we need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you. And I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to me.” I was ready to cry and I needed him to go away. I wanted to be alone with my feelings. I couldn’t handle being around him now. And so in a last ditch effort, I got mean.

“Get out. I don’t want to see you again. I made a mistake. I felt sorry for you so I made a mistake. Leave me alone.”

“Sorry for me, huh?” I could hear the hurt in his voice, but I couldn’t back down now. Apparently, I didn’t need to. He was done fighting with me.

Without another word, he turned around and walked away, tossing something down on the chair as he did. He disappeared through the door and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“That was painful to watch. Why were you so mean? It was just a one-night stand. Been there, done that.” Misha said picking up whatever Jude had tossed down.

I ignored her question and asked about Emmaline. “She’s not up yet? She’s normally up before us.”

“She had a late night too. You two losers pretty much ditched me at the same time. I caught a taxi and sat here and ate chocolate all night. You guys made me feel so good about myself...” her voice trailed off as she turned her attention to the papers in her hand.

“Late night? Seriously... like with a man?” I was surprised. As far as I knew, Emmaline hadn’t dated anyone since Colin.

Misha didn’t answer and instead seemed to be focused on whatever was in her hand. “Umm... you might need to sit down for this.”

“What is it?” I asked warily. Something about her tone made me reluctant to learn the answer.

I sat down next to her and realized she was holding photos. I peered closer and realized that they were pictures of me and Jude.

And Jude had been right, I had been all over him, as he smiled widely into the camera. I looked so happy. I was smiling in some of the pics, kissing him in others and then in the last pic, I was beaming as I held up my hand to the camera.

Something about my hand was different. I stared at the pic, not understanding what I saw there. And then my lack of understanding turned into disbelief. I was wearing a ring. I didn’t wear rings and the ring on my finger in the picture was not just any type of ring; it was clearly a wedding band.

“Misha?” I said. “Please tell me that’s not a ring.”

She was staring at my hand now. “That’s definitely a ring. Same ring you were wearing in the picture. It looks like a wedding band, Lacey.”

I swallowed hard and removed the ring. “Misha? What did I do?”

“This,” she said handing me the last remaining paper in her hand.

I studied it for a second, looked around for a garbage can, and promptly threw up.