Page 15 of Hard to Resist

VERITY

“Honey, I’m home.”

The voice crashes my dream, but I refuse to open my eyes. I squeeze them shut even tighter as the heels clacking on the floorboards mimic the pounding in my head.

“Why are you on the couch?” A sharp nail pokes my shoulder. “And in last night’s dress.”

The nail pokes me three more times, each one more insistent.

I force my eyes open and give my roommate the attention she’s demanding.

Hannah Hayes is a beast like no other. She leaves the apartment at 9:00 p.m. looking like a total knockout and then returns the next morning still just as gorgeous—even with the slight mascara smudges and clearly tangled sex hair.

“You have raccoon eyes,” I point out.

She snorts, reaching forward and swiping a finger at the corner of my eye. “So do you. The difference is I didn’t sleep here. What’s your excuse?”

“I was tired.”

“Uh-huh.” Her amber eyes slowly trail down to my toes and then back up to my face.

She sits on the ground, her purse and phone clattering to the floor as she shucks off her cropped leather jacket and discards that as well.

“What happened?”

Well, turns out all the alcohol I drank while pissed off at my no-show date hit me like a truck in the rideshare that was paid for by a hot stranger, who I was seriously tempted to make out with but didn’t because I told myself that I would not get caught up in the first date again. When I finally got back here, my body decided that, after climbing the stairs of our four-story walk-up, it couldn’t be bothered making my legs move anymore and left me on the couch to pass the hell out–clothes, makeup, and all.

But, instead of saying that, I just groan.

Hannah chuckles, working on unbuckling her stilettos.

“What? Was the date a bust? Did he get whiskey dick, so you came home early and drowned your sorrows in vodka and passed out on the couch? You know, this is why I told you to keep fishing in the ocean and not reel in the sparkly bass, because you never know if it’ll turn out to be an ugly trout.”

“There was no date.”

Her hands freeze, gaze cutting to me. “What do you mean?”

I purse my lips and roll onto my back.

“Vee. What. Do. You. Mean?”

“He didn’t show up.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Dude. What the fuck? Why didn’t you text me?”

“You had your own date.”

“A text is not going to ruin my date.” She perches on the edge of the couch, hovering over me. “Seriously. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Even though this is the third date he’s canceled in a row.”

Of course she remembers that. Hannah remembers everything.

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