I woke with a dry mouth and a pounding headache that hurt so bad that I promptly closed my eyes the moment I opened them.

I felt horrible, like I was dying.

And I was in a dark room that I didn’t recognize.

From the second I’d had them open, I saw that it was huge, the bed was on a marble platform and the room was at least twice as big as my entire rented apartment.

Maybe three times bigger.

I heard snoring behind me and opened my eyes again, slower this time.

And then it all came back to me.

Parts of it at least.

Gavin’s event.

The horror I felt at being such an ugly duckling in an ocean of famous people.

And the champagne.

There had been so much of it, glass after glass chugged down like it was water and I was on a bike marathon.

I was horrified, I couldn’t believe I drank that much.

And then coming back here, I remembered kissing him, his hands on my body and his finger between my legs…and then darkness.

Oh god, humiliation flooded me and drove me to sit upright, fighting the spinning pain swirling around my head.

I pushed Gavin’s arm off my hip and looked down at him. It wasn’t quite morning but the sun was just peeking up over the horizon. The room was bathed in mellow morning light and I could just make out his gorgeous features.

His arm was huge and tattooed with intricate designs and I fought the urge to fall back down into his arms and stay with him so I could find out more about him.

But I couldn’t be that girl.

The one who got drunk off her ass and had a one night stand with Gavin Pierce.

I slid off the bed and shivered. I was completely naked and couldn’t see my clothing anywhere in the huge master bedroom.

On the bed Gavin snorted and went silent, I froze and waited for him to wake up and wonder what I was doing.

I waited until he began to breathe again, steady and rhythmic and deep in sleep.

I somehow managed to fumble my way through his room and out into the hallway.

I found my panties and bra on the stairs, my dress tossed haphazardly into his living room, and my boots with my purse at the front door.

I ordered and Uber and got dressed, sat on his low leather sofa to pull my boots on and looked around with sadness.

This would probably be the last time I saw this place.

Gavin Pierce was notorious for one night stands, hump and dumps, and I figured I’d never see him again.

In fact, I would place a bet on it.

I slipped into the elevator and hit the lobby, thankful that I didn’t need a thumbprint to leave the penthouse suite.

I was there in moments, I stepped out gingerly nursing my aching head and wondering if we’d had sex.

I did ache…down there. But was it from his finger or his incredible dick?

My god, it had been massive.

And I wasn’t…you know, messy.

Maybe he’d worn a condom, but I speculated that if he’d slid that monster into me, I would be feeling it more than I was just then.

I was convinced we hadn’t had sex, besides he didn’t strike me as the type who would take advantage of a drunk girl.

And I had been pretty hammered.

No, by the time I got to the ground floor I was sure we hadn’t done it.

I walked past the doorman who was sitting at his post with his feet on the counter reading a paper.

He smirked at me, and awful smile that made me feel like the dirtiest slut on the planet.

I’d been used, and by the look on the doorman’s face, I wasn’t the first woman who had done the walk of shame out of Gavin’s apartment.

I looked away, staring intently at the ground as I walked through the front doors and into the fresh air.

And right into a bunched crowd of paparazzi, all taking pictures and yelling questions at me.

“What’s your name? Did you sleep with Gavin?”

“Is he as big as they say?”

“Did he tie you up?”

“Was Drake with you? Did you have the famous spit roast?”

Spit roast? I had no idea what that even was but my cheeks flared hot red and I kept my eyes down as I pushed my way past all of them.

“Please make a statement,” one extra aggressive reporter for an online gossip site said, shoving a recorder in my face. “Tell us what he was like.”

“Who are you? Are you a model?”

“Get the fuck away from me!” I screamed at last and shoved the guy with the recorder.

He fell backwards but his friend caught him.

They started to laugh as I ran to the Uber and climbed inside like my hair was on fire.

Not only had I made a complete fool of myself at the party, but now my face would be plastered all over the internet.

I just prayed nobody I knew would see it.

But I had a bad feeling everybody would.

I hid out all day and refused to answer anybody’s texts.

I knew it would be bad but I guess I was a little naïve.

I didn’t know how bad it would be.

That night after some research, writing and a nap I practiced a song Gavin had taught me but it left a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.

And a taste like ashes in the back of my mouth.

I put my guitar away and slammed the case shut, hunched over and breathed deeply until I calmed myself.

And I decided it was time to face the avalanche of texts that had come in since this morning.

They weren’t good.

There were links to articles about me and Gavin from my cousin, the sorority girls sent me a link to a British tabloid ripping apart my fashion sense. Or lack thereof, according to them.

My parents texted to see if I was okay, that their neighbors the Bevans had asked them about me.

I scanned through them all hoping to find one from Gavin, but there was nothing.

He hadn’t texted me.

My stomach lurched like a brick.

I’d been totally played.

I had a shower to hide the angry tears of shame that poured hot from my eyes, and when I stepped out I decided I would forget about Gavin Pierce.

So I’d been a notch on his belt, it would be a crazy story to tell my kids one day when they looked at me like I was a boring middle-aged academic.

But still, it hurt.

It hurt so bad.

I thought we had something, I really thought there had been a connection.

And one drunken night had ruined it all.

I slept fitfully that night and got up early to head into Professor Steinbach’s office to do some on site analysis of date we’d been gathering.

It was a Sunday so it campus would be deserted. I could work in silence, enjoy some peace and quiet while ignoring the emotions that were causing me so much turmoil.

I took the elevator and on the way down two neighbors were complaining to each other.

“All those photographers waiting in front of the door,” the older man said. “Every time I want to leave they’re crowding around looking for somebody.”

“A girl named Chloe,” the older woman said with a snotty sniff. “I don’t know what she did, but she’s damned inconsiderate having the press lurking around bothering her neighbors.”

I shrunk against the back wall of the elevator and pretended not to hear them. I was appalled though; I’d spent the day and night not knowing there were paparazzi gathered around pissing off the other people in my building.

They got off at the lobby level and when the doors opened I peeked out and saw them.

Hordes of people gathered, all hoping to get a glimpse of Gavin Pierce’s new one night stand.

It made me sick.

I let the door close and continued to the parking level and found the little car the university had lent me, climbed inside and hoped they weren’t waiting for me as I drove out.

I managed to sneak past them when they were distracted by somebody else coming out of the building.

I heard somebody yell my name though, just as I turned onto the street.

I looked down the sidewalk and a few people had broken away from the main group and were rushing towards me.

I hit the gas and raced to the university to pretend my life was still normal and I was just another nerdy girl spending her day off reading books.

As expected, the campus was a ghost town.

I wandered through the grounds, grabbed a coffee from the cafeteria closest to the psychology department, and found myself in Professor Steinbach’s lab at last.

“Thank god,” I exhaled as the door closed behind me.

It was quiet, cool, and sterile. Just what my roiling emotions and scattered brain needed today.

I set up at one of the tables near the back and picked up the data logs one of the grad students had compiled from Professor Steinbach’s notes.

It was simple work, just data entry, but it helped numb my mind and flooded my body with a satisfaction that I desperately needed.

I was about halfway through when the lab door keypad beeped, indicating somebody was coming in.

I turned in the chair and saw Professor Steinbach walking through it.

“Chloe, I thought I’d run into you today,” he said and paused. He ran his hand through his hair and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “We need to talk.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my heart fluttering in anxious anticipation.

“You know I value your work, right?”

“Yes, and I thank you for that.”

“This isn’t easy to say…but we’re going to have to cancel your post-doctoral research.”

The bottom fell out of the room and I felt as if I was going to fall over.

“Why? Is my work not good enough?”

“Your work is more than good enough. It’s all the attention you’re bringing the university. Especially the department.”

“Attention?”

“We’ve been getting phone calls all night and there were people camped out here yesterday. They’re back today, actually. But somebody found my home number and called me continually from midnight until four in the morning. I can’t have that kind of thing going on.”

“It’s not my fault,” I said, my voice threatening to crack under the strain. “It’s just a silly thing, it will all blow over.”

“I’ve discussed this with the department heads and we’ve realized that once something goes viral, it’s not going away any time soon. And in this case it’s you, or more accurately your presence here, and your time was up in another three weeks or so anyways. So, we’re sorry.”

“This isn’t fair,” I wailed. I hated how whiny I sounded before his cool, calm exterior.

“Life isn’t often fair, Chloe. Rest assured, I will give you an excellent professional recommendation if you should need it.”

And with that he turned on his heel and left me sitting there with my mouth hanging open.

I got up and walked to the window, opened the blinds just a crack and saw that mob of reporters waiting there for me.

I decided to hell with all of them, I was going to pack my belongings in my little car and fly home tomorrow.

It was early and my parents would be sick with worry once they realized that I’d lost the research opportunity, but without Professor Steinbach and his work, there was nothing here for me.

Not even Gavin.

He hadn’t texted me and I didn’t have his number.

I wasn’t about to hunt it down from Peg either.

To hell with Seattle and the paparazzi, I was going home.