174:

SCARLETT

I awoke with a groggy feeling and a soreness in parts of my body I didn’t recall overworking.

“Ugh,” I groaned as I stretched out of bed, “how much did I have to drink last night?” I asked myself as I got to my feet gingerly.

I blamed Emma.

Last night, she’d called me with good news that she’d bagged a better job opportunity and she insisted that we drink together over FaceTime to celebrate since we both hated the cluster and noisy ensemble of clubs.

As crazy as she was, she didn't let me end the call until I emptied a bottle of Vodka and she emptied one of Tequila.

But that didn't explain why I felt somewhat sore, nor did it help me make sense of how I got into bed because I vividly remember not having the willpower to move a muscle after the last swig of alcohol.

I shook my head and frowned at my memory lapse as I headed into the bathroom.

I was still trying to pull together my thoughts as I brushed while looking in the mirror when I spotted some marks on my neck. I paused,