I awake to a pounding headache and too much light. I close my eyes again. I'm going to throw up. Focus. Reach over and grab your trash can. Do not throw up on your bed, Sophie.

I open my eyes slowly.

I have no idea where I am. Holy shit, I have never been this irresponsible in my life. The last twenty-four hours flash in front of me. The coffee shop, Boyd, Luke, Shay's Bar. I don't remember anything past Shay's. I need to call Luke back. Tears prick my eyes as I recall how good he's been to me, and I repaid him by ignoring his calls while I sat in a bar getting drunk with Boyd. I'm horrible.

"Hey, you're up." It's Boyd. I'm at Boyd's.

"Bathroom!" I blurt out, and Boyd points to a bathroom en-suite.

I stumble out of the bed and and make it to the bathroom just in time to throw up in the toilet. I sink to the bathroom floor and wipe my mouth. I feel like crap, I have vomit in my hair and I blew off Luke. I'm in a stranger's apartment. My brother's, sure, but he's still a stranger.

I stand up and examine myself in the mirror. I look awful. Being irresponsible does not look good on me. I close the toilet lid and sit before realizing my cell phone is in my pocket. Yes! 6:44 AM Friday morning. Eleven missed calls from Luke, Jean and Everly. Six voicemails. Thirty-four text messages.

I press the button to return Luke's call.

He answers on the first half ring. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I respond. "I'm—"

He cuts me off. "Where are you?"

He's so mad. I don't think my answer is going to help things. "I'm at Boyd's."

The silence is deafening.

"Where is Boyd's?"

"I'm sorry, Luke, I didn't mean to ignore your calls."

"Where. Is. Boyd's?"

"I don't know. I don't know where I am."

Silence.

"You're okay?" he asks again.

"Yes." I sigh. "I threw up but I'm fine. I'm in the bathroom."

"Jesus, Sophie, are you really this young?"

No, I want to say. No. I'm so mortified. It was stupid to get drunk with someone I don't know. I put my safety in the hands of a stranger. A drunk stranger. I'm lucky the only thing that happened to me was passing out and waking up with a hangover. What if Boyd had passed out too? I could have ended up anywhere. Stupid.

So I say nothing.

"Open the map app on your phone and tell me what street you're on."

I pull the phone away from my ear and do as I'm instructed. "I'm on South Street, somewhere between 13th and 15th."

"I'll be there in five minutes. Get the exact address from Boyd and text me."

The line goes dead. He hung up on me. I stand and look at my shitty reflection in the mirror again and use my hand to cup water from the faucet to rinse my mouth out.

I exit the bedroom and realize I'm in a large loft. A loft I have no recollection of seeing last night.

"My boyfriend is coming to pick me up."

"Luke," Boyd states.

"Uh, yeah. Was I talking about him last night?"

"Just a little." He laughs.

"I'm sorry you had to take care of me."

Boyd scoffs. "It was no problem."

"I need to text Luke your address." I wave my phone. "I can't believe I don't know where I'm at. So stupid."

"You're in college. You're entitled to a little fun."

I think our idea of fun is different, but I keep that to myself as I text Luke the address. "Have you lived here a long time?" I ask, looking around. There's not much in the way of personal items. It’s a beautiful loft. Big, with views of the city.

He shrugs. "Less than a year." He tells me about the area while I wait for Luke. I realize we’re less than a mile from Luke’s place in Rittenhouse Square.

There's a knock on the door and I grab my coat and purse as Boyd opens the door.

I chance a glance at Luke. He looks exhausted. Boyd is speaking to him but Luke ignores him, his focus entirely on me.

"Wait in the car."

I say a quick goodbye to Boyd and get out of there as fast as I can. The mood between Luke and I is so off and I do not want to argue with him in front of Boyd.

I reach Luke's car and place my hands on the passenger side roof, breathing in and out. I've made it through three and a half years of college without ever being this hungover. I will quite simply die if I vomit in Luke's luxury car.

I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing, waiting for the nausea to settle while wondering how my mother has managed to mess up my life nineteen years after leaving it. No, this isn't on her. It's on me. I'm the same person I was yesterday. Learning the name of the missing person on my birth certificate doesn't give me the right to throw away the life I've made for myself.

A hand comes to rest on my back. "You okay?"

I nod and Luke opens the passenger door and gets me settled before circling the car and getting behind the wheel. We drive in silence down Broad Street. It's just past 7:00 AM and traffic is picking up. The speeding up and slowing down are making me feel worse and I'm focused on not vomiting, so I don't immediately notice that Luke is taking me back to his Rittenhouse Square condo and not my dorm.

"I have class today," I protest as he pulls into the parking garage.

"Hopefully someone takes notes for you," Luke replies and pulls into his assigned parking space.

I open my mouth to argue, but I have to throw up again. I open the car door and make it to the trash can next to the elevator without a second to spare. Luke is there a moment later, hand on my back. The elevator opens and I assume he's pushed the button to call for it, but I realize it's someone exiting the elevator as Luke says, "Good morning, Mrs. Hudson." She replies and heels click away from us before I look up.

I am beyond humiliated. "I'm sorry," I say as Luke leads me into the empty elevator and pushes the button for the penthouse.

"For?"

"Everything. Specifically for looking like a drunk whore in front of your fancy neighbors."

"You don't look like a whore. Not one I'd bring home anyway."

I look at him and I know I have tears in my eyes about to fall but I'm trying to fight them.

"Hey, hey." He crosses the space between us in the elevator and wipes them away with his thumbs. "I'm kidding."

"Don't." I pull away and back up. "I smell disgusting."

He pulls me into him anyway and kisses the top of my head. "You do," he agrees. "But I don't care."

We take a shower together, but Luke does all the work, insisting on washing my hair and scrubbing me from head to toe. When we're done he hands me a toothbrush already loaded with a swipe of toothpaste and then returns with a glass of orange juice and two Advil before he tucks me under his covers, buck naked.

I think he's going to join me in bed but when I look up he's buttoning a crisp gray shirt. "You're going to work?" I try to keep the whine out of my voice.

"Yes, those of us not hungover have jobs to do." He loops a blue tie around his neck and begins twisting it into a perfect knot.

"Fine, leave me here and go to work. I'm sure you have an appointment calendar full of women waiting for you to knock them up." I guess I'm done trying to keep the whining to myself.

Luke just smirks. "Thank you for reminding me," he says as he opens the drawer beside the bed and riffles around. "I need to pick up condoms today."

"Why?" I'm instantly on alert. We haven't used condoms since Thanksgiving. Does he not trust me anymore after I blacked out last night?

"How many times have you thrown up today"—he pauses—"so far?"

"Three."

"Did you take your pill this morning?"

"Yes." I see where he's going with this. "That I've already thrown back up." I fluff the pillow and turn on my side, watching him. "You're perfect for me."

"Why is that?" He shrugs into his suit coat. "Is it the way my cock is just a little too big to fit into your tight pussy and I have to stretch you out every time we fuck?"

Even though I’m hungover, the blood rushes to my pussy and I squirm under the sheets and press my thighs tighter together.

"Sophie?"

"Huh, what?" I'm so focused on not sticking my hand under the covers to rub myself while he's still in the room I've missed what he was saying.

"Why am I perfect for you?" He leans over the bed and kisses my forehead before rising and sliding a watch over his wrist. He smiles at me as his gaze drops to the place where my legs meet under the covers. He knows exactly what distracted me.

"You're the only one more paranoid than I am about an unplanned pregnancy."

He pauses then for the briefest second and gnaws at his bottom lip. "Mrs. Geiger is coming today, so put some clothes on if you get out of bed. I've already informed her to skip the bedroom if you're still sleeping."

"I don't have any clothes here."

"You don't need clothes to sleep off your hangover and masturbate."

"Luke!" I hide my face behind my hands, which is apparently funny because he laughs.

"I've seen every last inch of you, Sophie. I've had your legs spread in stirrups with my hand in your pussy and you're embarrassed that I know damn well you're dying for me to leave so you can slide your hand under the covers and rub your clit until you come?"

"Yes," I mumble, face still behind my hands.

"Okay," Luke replies. "Do you want me to bring home a few supplies from the hospital so we can play kinky doctor tonight?"

Damn him. "Uh-huh," I mutter, still not looking at him.

"Use your words, Sophie, I need to hear you say it."

"Yes!" I sit up with the sheet clutched to my chest. "Yes, I want that." I throw a pillow at him. "Now go away."

Luke is laughing at me again as he turns to exit the bedroom.

"Wait."

He stops and turns back, halfway to the door. He raises an eyebrow in question.

"You're not mad?"

His jaw clenches. "I'm furious."

"Oh."

"But we're okay, Sophie. As long as you're safe and I know where you are, we're okay."

I nod.

"I'd like to turn you over my knee and spank the shit out of you, and before you get excited, I don't mean that erotically."

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"I know," he replies.

Mrs. Geiger has washed and dried my clothing and I'm sitting in Luke's den when I hear him enter the condo that evening. He's hanging his coat in the front closet when I reach him. There's a black medical bag at his feet. I stop short and stare at it, my pussy clenching involuntarily. Clearing my throat, I ask Luke how his day was.

"Great," he responds. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much," I agree. My eyes dart to the bag.

Luke ignores the bag and steps around it to embrace me. "Should we go out to dinner?"

Dammit, no. "We could order pizza?" I suggest.

"No, we should go out."

Er. "How about Serafina?" We won't even need coats and we could be back in an hour if there's no wait.

"Hmm." Luke strokes my back, winding his fingers in my hair. "I was thinking Lombardi's. It's your favorite."

"That's forty-five minutes away!" I blurt out.

Luke steps back and frowns. "You've been cooped up inside all day, I thought you'd enjoy a drive and dinner out."

I am a horrible slut. All I can think about is what's in that bag and what Luke might do to me with it. I steal one last look at the bag and place a smile on my face. "You're right, that sounds nice."

Luke pauses, silently staring at me before one side of his mouth gives him away. "You don't want to go anywhere, you shameless hussy. You're practically gagging for me to pick up my little black bag and drag you by the hair into the bedroom."

I swallow. That's all true.

"Go to my office," he says instead.

Turns out his desk is a nice height for an impromptu exam table.