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“So maybe I have,” I say, stumbling after her as she leads me away from the crowded living room. We enter the hall, and I lean against the wall for a moment, waiting for my surroundings to stop twirling around me.

Around and around we go.

That’s what Cash and I have been doing—dancing in a continuous circle of agony.

Lesley props me up under her arm. “Do you need to barf?”

“Uh-ummm.”

“Is that a no?”

“Hmm.”

“What the fuck were you drinking?”

“I had a…I think a few of those fruity drinks Zan was making. And some shots…I think…”

“If you can’t remember, then you’ve had too much.” A door squeaks open, and Lesley flips on the light. Through the haze of my twirly reality, I recognize her bedroom, which seems off to me.

Probably because my shit is no longer in it.

“What’s going on, Jules? This isn’t you.”

“You aresowrong,” I say, pointing a finger at her as I flop onto her bed. “I’ve got a bad habit, Les.”

With a sigh, she settles onto the mattress next to my hunched over form. “I wouldn’t go that far. You don’t drink very often.”

“That’s not what I mean. I have a bad habit of screwing around with married men.”

“Tell me you didn’t.”

“I kissed him.” I blink a few times until the outline of her form isn’t so blurry. “Or he kissed me. What the fuck does it matter who kissed who? We’re both so far gone.” I flop over and hug her pillow.

“You’re gonna get hurt,” she says, rubbing my shoulder.

“It’s too fucking late. I love him.”

“He’s married, Jules. Say he does leave his wife? I say once a cheater, always a cheater. He’ll turn around and do the same to you.”

“Things aren’t that black and white.” I glare my pent-up frustration in her direction. “And by that logic, you might as well say the same about me.”

“That’s not what I meant. I know you well enough to know that you’re not like that. You made a mistake, simple as that. One you’ll hopefully learn from.”

“So it’s okay for me to cheat, but not him? Double standard much, Les?” I’m drunk, cranky, and hurting, but I can’t seem to care about my shitty behavior right now.

“You’re right,” she says. “I don’t know him, or the circumstances. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“You’re a good friend. The best friend I’ve ever had.” I cuddle her pillow a little tighter, my lids growing heavy. “I’ll apologize tomorrow for being a bitch. Just let me sleep it off, ‘kay?”

The bed shifts, and her footsteps fade as she leaves the bedroom. She shuts off the light before closing the door, but the streetlamp outside the window offers enough illumination to chase away the pitch dark. Sleeping it off isn’t going to come as easily as I’d hoped. I fish my cell from my pocket, thankful I didn’t lose it during my string of drinks and drowning sorrows. Shuffling through my notifications, I frown.

A missed call from Chris. Big surprise there, since he’s been calling and texting for a couple of weeks now.

He misses me. He wants me to come home. He’s sorry. He forgives me. Blah, blah, blah.

I pull up my contacts, and my thumb hovers over Cash’s name.

Don’t do it, Jules.