what a fail.

On Tuesday I decided that I was going to make dinner for Brady. I don’t ever cook, but I thought it would be a nice gesture. I found a recipe for homemade ravioli on Pinterest that didn’t seem too complicated and made a grocery list for after work.

$170 later, I headed home with all the ingredients I needed (including a pastry wheel, a rolling pin, and a bottle of wine). I started with the pasta dough which seemed fairly easy – pour the flour on a flat surface, make a “well” for the egg yolks, oil and milk, mix.

Well, it didn’t work out like that. I didn’t want to touch the raw eggs with my bare hands so I tried to use a spoon. That obviously didn’t work. My dough came out super runny. I added more flour but it ended up crumbling into pieces. I tried again and decided that I would follow the recipe exactly by using my hands. I sucked it up and mixed the dough with my hands, but again it came out runny (later found out that I read the recipe wrong and should’ve added more flour, of course).

At this point, I was annoyed and decided I would start on the filling then come back to the dough. I was making a spinach and mozzarella filling and the first step was to wilt the spinach down with olive oil and garlic. Easy enough. I added the garlic and olive oil and then dumped the entire bag of spinach in the pan. My mom called and I excitedly told her about the meal I was making. I knew she would be proud.

She started telling me about how one of my favorite teachers from high school is under investigation for having sex with one of his students. I was shocked and realized that could have so easily been me. I flirted with him endlessly my junior and senior years because he was hot plus math was really hard. He never really budged or showed any interest (except buying a ton of cookie dough from me during our fundraiser for new uniforms). Maybe I just wasn’t hot enough for him to hook up with.

I was so engrossed in the conversation with my mom that I forgot all about the spinach on the stove until I smelled burning garlic. The pan was smoking so I told my mom I had to call her back. The majority of the spinach was black and burned with the garlic. How does that even happen?

By then, Brady was due in thirty minutes and my ravioli was nowhere near being done. What a fail. I knew that I had to cook something so I decided to stick with what a know how to make: grilled cheese. Plus that was all I really had time for. I had fresh mozzarella left from my ravioli disaster so I used it to make two sandwiches. I plated them with vintage Hermès plates with a basil leaf garnish. Chicest grilled cheese ever.

I buzzed Brady in and the first thing he said was, “Did you burn something?”

Ugh. Definitely should’ve opened a window.

“Are you ready to eat?” I asked, ignoring his question.

“Mmm, yes. What did you make?” Brady said.

I led him to my tiny table and chairs. “Gourmet grilled cheese!” I squealed.

“Looks great.” Brady went to sit down, but I yelled for him to stop.

“I need to take a picture for Instagram,” I explained.

He waited patiently while I uploaded the photo of our food and wine (and my fabulously decorated table) with the caption “Made dinner for bae.” I immediately got several likes.

After we ate, we were still hungry so we made pizza rolls. I poured us more wine and we took it along with our pizza rolls and Oreos to the couch. We started watching some baseball game and stayed up talking until 1:00 AM.

On Wednesday, I hung out with Preston and Dillon. We went to this natural tea place Preston has been dying to try and all their drinks are named stuff like “Happiness” and “Purity.” I got “Tranquility” because obviously that’s what I need in my life.

We sat outside and I told them about my latest bout of craziness with Brady. Preston obviously laughed for several minutes then gave Dillon a brief overview of my relationship with Brady.

“Poor guy. He has no idea what he’s gotten himself into,” Preston said, wiping his laughter tears away.

“I’ve decided that I’m going to let myself be vulnerable though. I think I’ve been so crazy with him because I have a guard up,” I said.

“Good for you,” Preston said and his face turned serious. “I don’t think he has any intention to hurt you, love bug. And if he does, just know that you have amazing friends who will help you slash his tires and hack into his Facebook.”

I laughed because that was true. You don’t even want to know what kind of trouble my friends and I got into in college.

Dillon spent the rest of the evening telling me his life story which would have been really annoying if it wasn’t completely entertaining. He said he’s 19 and moved here from San Diego. His house burned down two years ago and apparently his family’s insurance didn’t cover all the losses so they had to dip into his college fund and now he has no money to go to school. So tragic. He’s hoping to break into acting and dance and has been an extra in those awful Step Up movies. He moved to Chicago because of the theater opportunities and was homeless for his first few months here. Luckily he met a kind person who not only helped him pay for school, but also gave him a place to live. What a wonderful story.

I texted Brady while I was out and asked if he wanted to come over. He said he was working late so I invited Preston and Dillon over. I couldn’t help checking Jessica’s Facebook to see if she checked in anywhere or tagged Brady in anything. She didn’t. Is it unhealthy that I do that? I’ve been checking her page obsessively the last few days and all I see are pictures of her and her friends. I thought about deleting her, but then I won’t catch it if she does tag Brady in something.

i thought i was going to die.

I spent all day Saturday preparing for the 5k. I woke up and ran two miles on the treadmill in my apartment’s fitness center then collapsed on my bed and napped for three hours. When I woke up, I decided to take a jog along the lake like I had seen so many people do. Then I got distracted and started taking pictures for Instagram instead. I needed all of my followers to know that I was running at the lake after all. I went home and stretched/watched tv until Preston came over with a pizza and a bottle of wine.

I woke up on Sunday morning at 8:00 with a text from Brady saying that he would see me at 9:00 at the park for the race.

I replied, “Can’t wait! :-)”

Then I climbed out of bed and discovered that my entire body was sore – especially my legs. I couldn’t figure out why I would possibly be sore until I realized that I had run the day before. How was I supposed to run an entire 5k when my body was aching from the little bit of running I did do? I got up and popped four ibuprofen, washed them down with Red Bull then got ready.

I decided on a pair of black yoga shorts, a gray half-zip, and the pair of Nike Frees I got last year when I went through my weeklong (day and a half) workout phase. Kendra and John dropped me off at the park on their way to church and there were hundreds of people waiting to run. For a moment I panicked, not knowing how Brady and I were going to find each other but after a short walk around the crowd, he appeared.

“Hey,” he said, looking me up and down. “You look cute.”

I beamed. “Thanks. So do you.”

Brady somehow made his shorts and t-shirt look totally sexy. He had sunglasses on and two days of beard growth. I wanted to skip the race and just go back to his immaculate bedroom.

“Have you warmed up or stretched?” he asked.

“Um, no. I just got here,” I answered.

“You might want to. Just for joint and muscle mobility. But if you don’t normally warmup before running then don’t worry about it,” he explained.

I wanted to tell him that I don’t normally run but instead bent over at the waist to stretch. I did what stretches I could remember from high school for about two minutes then told Brady I was finished. We had to go get our numbered race bibs then decide if we wanted to go with the first, second or third heat.

“I usually go with the fastest group but we can with a slower one if you want,” he said.

I gave him a playful punch in the bicep. “Hey! Who says I’m slow?”

Brady smiled. “Not saying you’re slow, but I figure it might be nice to take it easy today.”

We agreed to go with the middle group and waited at the start line with the other runners. That’s when I started to get nervous. I told myself if I could run two miles on the treadmill, I could do it again plus one more mile.

I started off fine. We were at a good pace and even talking and laughing a little bit. Then once we got to the mile and half mark, my side began cramping up. It was so much different than running on a treadmill. There were rocks and potholes to avoid and hills. Once we got to the two mile mark I thought I was going to die. Brady kept talking and all I could do was grunt back because I was so out of breath. I could feel sweat accumulating on my forehead and dripping down my temples. Because I knew I might sweat a little bit, I only wore Laura Mercier tinted moisturizer, concealer and mascara but I knew all of that was long gone.

Finally after twenty five minutes of pure hell, the finish line came into view. I was so fucking happy. We crossed the finish line and even though I wanted to collapse to the ground, I didn’t because Brady didn’t.

“Great job, Reese. I’m surprised you kept up,” he said.

“What’s…that…supposed…to mean?” I gasped. I put my hands on my hips and tried to catch my breath.

“Carly was over last night and told me you’re not very athletic,” he explained.

Bitch.

“She has no idea what she’s talking about.”

We went and grabbed complimentary bottles of water then Brady asked where I parked. I told him that I actually don’t have a car and he asked if I wanted a ride home. I obviously said yes.

He let us into his car and he asked for my address to put into his GPS.

“You know, I worked up quite an appetite during that run,” Brady said.

I didn’t realize it, but I did too. I hadn’t eaten beforehand and I really wanted a bacon cheeseburger with chili cheese fries. And a shot of tequila.

“Me too,” I agreed.

“There’s a really good breakfast spot by my place. Do you want to go?”

“Looking like this? I look disgusting,” I said.

Brady smiled at me. “You look good.”

I knew that this was a lie and I looked like a melted Barbie but I appreciated his effort so I told him fine.

The place was on a relatively busy corner, but surprisingly not busy for a Sunday morning. We secured a table on the outdoor patio and opened the menus. I really wanted to order two short stacks of pancakes and sixteen slices of bacon, but ordered an egg white omelette and a Bloody Mary instead.

“You don’t mess around, do you?” Brady asked after I placed my order.

“I deserve this,” I told him.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom so I could try to fix the disaster that I knew my face was. But surprisingly, I didn’t look bad. My cheeks were ruddy, but not in a bad way. It looked like I was glowing. I blotted my face with a paper towel, retwisted my topknot and met Brady back at our table.

I was happy to see that my Bloody Mary had arrived. I took a long gulp. Between this and the fact that I didn’t look like a carcas, I felt good.

“So what did you, Carly and Chris do last night?” I asked.

“The two of them ordered a pizza and I hung around like a scrounger until they offered me a slice,” he said.

I giggled (me, giggling? Who had I become?).

“They went into Chris’s room after that and I thought it might be a bit intrusive if I joined them in there,” he went on.

Ew. Why would he want to go into Chris’s bedroom with them? They were obviously hooking up. I sat there judging him for a moment until he peeked up from his glass of water and half-smiled at me. Oh! So he was kidding. He did it with such a straight face and even voice that I couldn’t even tell. He did have a sense of humor after all.

We continued talking while we ate and then for a while after. He told me about how he had gone on a medical mission trip to Guatemala which made me feel super uncultured because the only time I travel abroad is to party.

Brady insisted on treating me to breakfast since I had done so well (which turned out to be good because I left my wallet at home) then drove me to my apartment. He promised to let me know when the next race is.

betrayal.

As expected, I was hungover and miserable all day on Monday and hid out in my office for the majority of the day. I sent BJ out to get me a cheeseburger and a salad. He brought back the goods and stood in my office watching me eat. He totally called me out on being hungover and pretended to be upset that I didn’t invite him out for our shenanigans. As if I would ever.

I decided to clock out early and on my way out, I had to walk past the interns’ cubicles. I was going to stop by and say goodbye to BJ and remind him that I wanted a green tea frappucino in the morning instead of the usual chai, but the social media intern, Amanda, was hovering over his desk. I could tell by the way she was twirling her blonde hair and her foot was cocked that BJ was sweet talking her right out of her panties. And it irritated me. And then I was annoyed at myself for being irritated.

The next morning, BJ and Amanda showed up to work together with matching Starbucks cups. I sensed something going on here and couldn’t wait to question him about it. He came into my office and handed me the drink.

“Morning, boss lady,” he said.

“I wanted a frappucino,” I said, taking a sip from my hot chai.

BJ’s curved into a grin. “Shit. I forgot.”

I sipped my latte and wiggled my eyebrows. “So what’s with you and Amanda?”

He shrugged with his hands in his pockets. “What? I’m just having fun.”

By the way he said this I could tell that “having fun” meant they are totally hooking up. And it really pissed me of because that meant I am not the only one he’s been flirting relentlessly with. So I made him run back to Starbucks and get me the frappuncino I wanted and then spend the rest of the day stapling things and doing bitch work around the office.

After work I went home and poured a huge glass of vino and sat in front of the tv. I was almost asleep when I got a picture message from Preston. It was a screenshot of an Instagram post – from that girl Brooke’s Instagram. The picture was of her and Eric from Sunday night at the club and her caption was: “Had so much fun with my favorite boy last night :)”

In the picture, she was sitting on Eric’s lap with her arms wrapped around his neck. She was a lot prettier than I remembered but still resembled an alien.

Immediately, I typed her name into Instagram and found her wide open profile. Buried in the numerous pictures of her and her friends out partying and her bulldog, there were several of her and Eric, looking all photogenic and lovey. They all had captions like “out with my boy” and “so glad I got to see my babe today.” The photos dated back to five weeks ago. Wait. Wait. Was Brooke Eric’s girlfriend? He told me they were friends!

I calmly finished my glass of wine while trying to decide what to do. Eric had given me no indication that he had a girlfriend or was even dating anyone else. Well aside from the whole incident on Sunday night. We hadn’t agreed to be exclusive nor had a relationship talk at all, but I still felt a little bit betrayed.

Finally, I decided to call Eric. I would politely and calmly probe to find out what I could about his potential girlfriend situation.

“Hey, Reese,” he said when he picked up.

“I thought you and Brooke were just friends. Why is she posting all these pictures on Instagram?” I blurted out.

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even have Instagram,” he replied.

“‘Out with my boy.’ ‘So glad I got to see my babe today.'” I quoted from her pictures. “So you lied.”

Eric sighed. “I didn’t know she was posting that stuff. We aren’t dating.”

“Oh sure. I don’t even believe you.”

“Reese, I don’t want a girlfriend right now so I’m not with either of you. I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear.”

“Fine,” was all I said. It kind of hurt to hear that Eric had no intention of actually being in a relationship with me. Not that I wanted to. I don’t think.

“Sorry. I don’t want to stop hanging out with you, but I’m not in any position to get into a relationship right now. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said and told him that I had to go. After we hung up, I sat there thinking about what a long day of betrayal I’d had. First, BJ and Amanda and now this. I poured another cup of wine and nursed my wounds.

the intern.

On Monday morning we had a staff meeting to introduce our new bright eyed summer interns. I sat in the back of the conference room Instagramming my shoes (#shoesoftheday #rockstuds) because this had nothing to do with me. Afterwards, I met with Diana and Dave to discuss some details about the warehouse sale. They kept telling me how excited they were about the batik line and how they couldn’t wait to see what else I had in store.

Usually I work through lunch but I decided to go to the break room to make some tea and find a snack. I was standing in front of the vending machine trying to decide if I wanted an iced honey bun or a plain honey bun (honestly, I needed neither) when I heard someone say, “Just take forever why don’t you?”

I turned and standing behind me was one of the new ad team interns with a playful smirk on his face. He was tall and lean with dark hair that needed to be cut, sleepy eyes and an incredible jaw. He was wearing a pair of amazing fitting flat front slacks with a polo tucked in. Something about his look told me that he liked to drink cheap beer, smoke a ton of pot, and get crazy on the weekends. He was actually really effing hot.

“I’m still deciding. You can go ahead of me if you’d like,” I said.

He stepped in front of me and as if reading my mind, got an iced honey bun. He locked eyes with me as he took a bite.

“Mmmm. So good,” he said.

“That’s actually what I was going to get,” I told him.

He held the honey bun out to me. “Want a bite?”

I shook my head. “I’ll get my own.”

He was blocking the vending machine so we both just kind of stood there looking at each other.

“What’s your name?” he asked after taking another bite.

“Reese. What’s yours?” I replied.

“Brandon. But people call me BJ.”

“BJ,” I repeated.

“Yeah. Like blow job.”

Normally an inappropriate comment like this would warrant a scoff and an eye roll, but the way he said it – so suggestively – made my face get hot. And it really pissed me off.

“Do you know that I’m going to be your boss this summer, Brandon?” I finally revealed.

He gave me a skeptical look. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.”

Blow Job smirked at me again. “Anything I can get for you, boss lady? Coffee?”

“Non-fat, no foam, Stevia – extra hot chai tea latte topped with a sprinkle of nutmeg. I don’t drink coffee,” I countered.

“Oh yeah?” he said, smirking.

“You have six minutes,” I added.

BJ took a bite of his honey bun without taking his eyes off me.

“You’re out of your mind, Reese. This ain’t The Devil Wears Prada,” he said.

He was so cocky and douchey. Who gave him the right to talk to me – his boss – like this? I was kind of obsessed.

“Yes it is. You’re going to be my slave this summer, Brandon,” I said.

He finished his honey bun while staring me down. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He stared at me carnivorously for a few moments before heading toward the door.

“I hope you’re not a psycho boss, Reese,” BJ said before walking out.

He has no idea.

After work I stopped by Kendra’s to say hi and to distract myself so I didn’t go home and text Eric. I’d decided that was going to give him a little bit of space. I knew he needed a break from me/my drunk counterpart so I was going to wait for him to contact me.

When I got to Kendra’s, John was there moving some of his things in. The place was in such disarray that it gave me anxiety. I told Kendra I had a lot of work to do a peaced out of there.

On Tuesday, I got to the office and immediately started replying to emails as usual. I usually spend an hour or so catching up on what I missed/raping Pinterest then I get started on my day. I heard a knock on the door and found BJ standing there with a white Starbucks cup in his hand.

“Morning, boss lady,” he said, walking to my desk. He sat the cup down and I quickly closed out of my Pinterest browser. “I brought your drink.”

I looked up at him, unsure of what to say. He had that playful smirk on his face. It told me that he was imagining what I looked with my clothes off and it made me blush. I never fucking blush.

“This is about twenty hours late,” I finally said.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” BJ said.

He stayed in my office for a while chatting. I found out that he goes to school at UGA and is in a fraternity, which is obvious. He is studying marketing and advertising – hence the internship and is living with a bunch of his friends in the city this summer. One thing about BJ is that he definitely knows how to talk to women. He says everything so sexually – like he was asking my favorite sex positions and if I wanted to try them out with him. I couldn’t decide if I loved him or hated him.

After he left, I took a sip of the steaming hot chai goodness. I even tasted the hint of nutmeg. Somehow, this goofy kid had gotten my order exactly right. I was impressed.

I spent the day prepping for the warehouse sale on Saturday, keeping the ad team in check and avoiding hungry looks from BJ. After work, Eric called and invited me to sleep over. I can’t lie, I was relieved to finally hear from him. I packed my bag and changed into lululemon leggings and a v-neck. When we got to his condo, we made pasta for dinner and put in a movie. We didn’t mention Friday night at all.

Eventually, we retreated to his bed. We laid next to each other, on our backs, not saying anything or touching. It was weird and I wondered if Eric was still mad. But he’d invited me over and kissed me hello so that didn’t seen likely. I peeked over at him and he had one hand behind his head and he appeared to be sleeping but I knew he wasn’t.

I laid there looking out the window for a moment wondering if I should just hop on him. He must’ve wanted to hook up too, right? And then I felt his hand creep across my tummy and in between my legs. He started rubbing me softly through my panties and it was exactly the right spot so I immediately started moaning. His hand quickened and became more urgent. I glanced over and he was still just laying there with his arm behind his head and his eyes closed. If anyone were to walk in, they wouldn’t be able to tell what was happening and that I was about to come hard as fuck. My legs started trembling and Eric – sensing how close I was – moved in quick, rough motions until I squealed with pleasure. And then he rolled over and went to sleep. It was kind of odd but absolutely satisfying.

*also: I will posting the Q&A Friday morning so comment, email, or tweet your last minute questions!

drunk reese strikes again.

On Friday night, Kendra, Preston, Carly and I went to a party at Preston’s boss’s – a cute high rise with scenic city views. It was an intimate little soirée and we had lots of champagne and vodka cranberries. We left at around 10:00 and weren’t ready to stop partying yet so we walked to a strip of bars a few blocks away.

Preston bought us a round of Patron shots and as soon as I took it, I knew it was going to be one of those nights. We had another round of Patron, danced, took a few of pictures for Instagram, took a parting Patron shot and headed to the next bar. There, I ordered a vodka water. Vodka waters are a sign of desperation and they’re all I drank in college. The fact that I was indulging in vodka waters in my post-grad life was not a good sign.

At some point, our group had gotten separated so Carly and I worked the bar – flirting with guys and getting free drinks until last call.

We went outside to find our friends and I finally pulled my phone out of my Rebecca Minkoff clutch (I still had it in my possession. Small victories). I had several missed calls from Preston and Kendra and a text from Eric.

“Come over?” The timestamp said 10:22 PM. It was now 3:38 AM.

I sat down on the curb (in my white Hudson jeans, ugh) and called Eric. He didn’t pick up and I figured he was probably sleeping.

“Reesie, Kendra says they’re coming out of the bar now. Do you want to get pizza?” Carly asked, drunkly.

I ignored her and tried Eric again. So what if he was sleeping? Drunk Reese wanted to see him. He didn’t answer and I tried again right away. He finally picked up.

“Yes?” He definitely sounded like he’d been sleeping.

“Hey it’s me!” Drunk Reese exclaimed into the phone.

“Dammit Reese! It’s almost 4:00 in the morning!” Eric yelled.

“I know, but I thought you wanted me to come over,” I said innocently.

“Hours ago. I’m fucking sleeping,” he grumbled into the phone.

“Wow, okay. I thought you wanted to hang out.” I felt the hot tears forming. Drunk Reese doesn’t like being yelled at. Sober Reese would have shouted back, hung up and never talked to him again, but Drunk Reese is much more fragile.

“Reese, I have to be up at 7:00. I don’t have time for this right now,” Eric said, softening his tone.

“Well you didn’t have to yell and curse at me. I just thought you wanted to see me.” I was actually sobbing into the phone. I heard Preston and Kendra approach us but didn’t bother looking up at them.

“I want to see you but not right now,” Eric said calmly. “I have something very important to do in the morning.”

“More important than me I guess. Just like everything in your life,” I cried.

I heard Preston ask who I was talking to and Kendra say she hoped it wasn’t Eric.

Eric sighed. “Don’t do this right now. I’m really tired. Can we talk tomorrow?”

“It is tomorrow!”

Eric didn’t say anything.

“You’re so mean!” I was sobbing again and I heard Kendra tell me to get off the ground.

Eric let out a deep sigh. “Fine. Come over.”

“K. Be there soon!” I said and hung up.

I stood up and turned to my friends with a big smile on my face – as if I hadn’t been bawling my eyes out seconds before.

“I’m taking a taxi to Eric’s,” I announced.

“So you don’t want to get pizza?” Carly asked.

“Reese, don’t go bother him. I’m sure he just wants to sleep,” Kendra said.

“Yeah, with me!” I leaned in and gave them all hugs and then hopped in an idle taxi waiting on the curb.

When I got to Eric’s, he came down and let me in in just pajama pants. I never really stopped to appreciate his huge arms, pecs, 8 pack and delicious happy trail.

“Hiiiiii!” Drunk Reese squealed.

“Shhh. We are going to sleep immediately,” Eric said, leading me to the elevator.

When we got up to his apartment, Drunk Reese realized that she should’ve taken Carly up on that pizza offer.

“Do you have anything to eat? I’m starving,” I said.

“No,” Eric said, walking to his bedroom.

I ignored him and flipped on the kitchen light. I opened the fridge and found leftover pizza, leftover Chinese food, cheesecake, and fresh fruit – all of which looked absolutely delicious.

“You lied!” I shouted, taking the box of pizza out the fridge. It appeared to be meat lovers, something Sober Reese would never partake in, but Drunk Reese was drooling like Pavlov’s dog.

I popped two slices in the microwave with no plate or paper towel under it and set it for two minutes.

“What are you doing?” Eric asked from the bedroom.

“Eating your pizza, liar. Can’t believe you didn’t wanna share with me!”

I hopped up on the counter and texted Kendra letting her know that I was safe at Eric’s. After I ate both slices of pizza I dug into the cheesecake. It was divine. As I was shoveling a huge fork full of cheesecake and strawberries in my mouth, Eric appeared in the kitchen.

“Reese, what the fuck are you doing?” he asked.

“Do you want some cheesecake?” I held the box of cheesecake and fork out to him.

“No. I want to go to sleep.”

I took one last bite of cheesecake and followed Eric out of the kitchen. I took off everything except my thong and climbed into bed.

“Eric, you seem upset. Are you mad at me?” I asked, putting my arm around him.

He shook me off and said, “No. Just… Go to sleep.”

“K.”

I rolled over and pinned a few things on Pinterest, commented “you look fugly. xo” on someone’s picture on Instagram, and added a dark selfie to my SnapChat story. Then I turned back to Eric and tapped his shoulder.

“What Reese?” he asked, clearly fed up.

“Goodnight kiss?” I asked.

He quickly turned around and kissed me hard. Luckily Drunk Reese fell asleep after that.

I woke up feeling like complete and utter shit. I don’t know who told me I had the right to drink vodka waters. Eric was standing at the foot of the bed, getting dressed and I debated pretending like I was asleep or getting up. My full bladder made the decision for me.

“Morning,” I said, climbing out of bed. I was still naked and my head was throbbing.

“Hey,” Eric said.

I breezed past him to the bathroom and tried to decide if I was going to apologize for my shenanigans. This was the second time Drunk Reese had come out to play at an inconvenient time and Eric was probably so over it/her. But I was drunk, what was I supposed to do? I finally decided that I was going to pretend that nothing happened.

I left the bathroom and Eric was putting on his hat, preparing to leave. “Do you want a ride home?”

“Yes. Just give me a minute to get dressed,” I said. I found all my clothing strewn across the bedroom floor and got dressed while Eric sat at the foot of the bed.

“What do you have to do this morning?” I asked, to break the silence.

“I have an appointment,” he said shortly.

“Oh, that’s nice. Who with?” I pressed on.

“My physical therapist. It’s starting in fifteen minutes,” he replied.

I assumed that meant I needed to hurry so I finished getting dressed and met him at the door. The car ride to my apartment was completely silent but he leaned over and kissed me when he dropped me off.

“I hope your thing goes great,” I said as one last ditch effort to smooth things over.

He simply said, “Thanks,” and that was the end of that.

I spent the rest of Saturday nursing my hangover.

*note: I’m doing a Q&A on the blog next week. Send your questions to hotmessinhighheels@gmail.com.

hot mess in high heels.

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