I woke up at 4:00 a.m. with a splitting headache, the worst kind of throbbing that reminds you exactly how much you'd drunk. The room was dark, but the unfamiliar shadows and the slight smell of disinfectant confirmed that I was in a hotel room, not my apartment. I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to gather together hazy pieces of last night: the bar, reckless drinking, and the last clear image that came to mind-Stefan's handsome, worried face.

"Veevee, are you awake?"

I turned to the couch, saw Stefan sitting on it, his posture stiff, eyes watching me with a concern that seemed genuine.

"You stayed here all...