The sound of keys fumbling at the door wakes me up. I blink against the morning light streaming through my apartment window. The city hums gently outside—birds, car engines, distant chatter. I'm curled on the couch in a blanket, last night's makeup smeared under my eyes and my phone still clutched in one hand.
The door swings open. There's my favorite Latina girl with her stupid grin that I know what it means—she had fun.
"Don't freak out, I'm alive!" Julia announces dramatically as she stumbles inside, hair a tangled mess, heels in one hand and what looks like a man's hoodie draped over her tiny party dress.
I sit up slowly. "You're alive. But barely, by the looks of it."
She kicks the door shut with her foot, then collapses onto the other end of the couch like a dying Victorian lady. "It was worth it."
"I take it you spent the night with Liam?"
She lifts her head with a proud little smirk. "The night until dawn."
"Gross," I say, but there's no heat behind it.
