Page 6 of The Quirky Vet

"It's after two-thirty."

"Okay, then.We'restill young."

"We're almost thirty," I counter.

"Fuck it." He shoots to his feet. "It's still dark. My pancreas is still working. We're still technically on holiday. Let's continue getting shitfaced."

"Absolutely not."

I try to get up, but my balance is off. Fitz extends his arms and helps me get to my feet. I'm finally up, but he's still holding on to me.

"You okay?" he checks, his light-brown eyes homing in on me.

"Yeah."

I mustn't be looking too crash hot because he adds, "A few deep breaths, mate. You're all good. I got ya."

Heat flares in my chest, but I focus on my breathing.

That's the thing about Fitz. He may belong to the world, be the guy everyone falls in love with and gravitates towards, but atthe end of the day, I know he's got my back the same way I've got his.

Because underneath the TikTok persona and the crazy outfits and the outlandishness of everything he does, there's a real, genuine, down-to-earth bloke who's doing his best to get by and move on from what happened when he was ten. He doesn't have to tell me he thinks about Lleyton every day because I know he does.

"No more drinking," I mumble as we make our way up the beach in search of our shoes.

"Onemore drink," he counters.

And when he looks at me with those pretty eyes and that irresistible smile, I have no choice but to cave immediately.

"Fine," I huff out. "One more drink."

2

Fitz

I have no idea how one drink turned into a few drinks, which turned into Muir and me crawling—not literally, but not too far off either—into the hotel just as the first light touched the sky.

Come to think of it, a lot of details from our monumental piss-up are a blur. But there are times in life when you need to get black-out drunk, and last night most definitely qualified as one of those times.

But fuck, I'm paying for it this morning. I dig my fingers into my sleep-encrusted eyes and let out a yawn, silently thanking the genius who invented light-blocking curtains because me and sunlight would not be on good terms right now.

My hand instinctively reaches over to the nightstand, searching for my phone. It's not there.

Weird.

I may have gotten so shitfaced off my tits that even trying to remember what happened once we left the beach makes me dizzy, but there's no way I'd ever not charge my phone.

Unless it's on the other side of the bed?

I roll over to check and stop mid-roll.

I'm not alone in the bed.

Muir's sprawled out on his back, an arm covering his face, the sheets pooled just underneath his belly button. The light-blue glow of the bedside clock illuminates his broad chest and well-defined arms, his heavy breathing punctuating the quiet.

Wait a fucking minute.

Why is Muir in my room?

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