“Argh, careful Robz!” Lucy shrieks, sliding from around the table and grabbing the glasses from me.

I smile. “Whoopsie daisy.”

“What?” she asks giggling.

Confused, I shrug. “What?” I’m trying not to sway but doing a terrible job.

“Oh my God, you’re trashed!”

“No, I’m not,” I answer. As if on cue, I hiccup and practically fall into my seat.

She smirks as if she knows better and takes a sip of her half-empty margarita. I feel kind of awkward not paying for my drinks, but Lu insisted we come here and wouldn’t let me pay. It’s probably a good thing, too, as I can’t afford my rent; dropping money on overpriced cocktails would be beyond stupid in my current predicament.

“What time is it, Lucy?” I ask, only my voice sounds funny, and her name comes out Looshey.

“Holy shit, babe. I think you should switch to water. You’ve only had like five, wait six, or maybe seven? Yeah, seven drinks. Actually that’s quite a lot. We should both switch to water.”

I frown. I have no clue what she’s talking about, and I’m definitely not drunk. I wish she’d sit still, though; she’s making me dizzy. The mention of water rattles around in my head and my mind summons up the image of the poor guy I burned in the coffee shop this morning. He poured water over himself, and me.

It was hot.

Not the water, but the gesture. At least I’m remembering it being hot; at the time it was completely humiliating. He was really good looking…I think. Damn, my head’s spinning.

“I have to call about the stripping. You know, the person, your friend. I need to do the stripping. What time is it?”

“Okay, sweetheart, do not call Annie’s boss while you’re this wasted. I’ll text her and tell her that you’ll call tomorrow. You’re in no state now.”

I toss the remainder of my drink back and shake my head as the alcohol burns the back of my throat.

“You think I’m a state?” I pout. “I’m pretty enough to be a stripper.”

Oh, God, am I?

Lucy’s eyes crinkle as she shakes her head. What a bitch, she doesn’t think I’d be a hot stripper. “You think they won’t wanna put money in my panties? Do they actually do that? What if I’m wearing a thong? It wouldn’t hold much money…I should wear my Bridget Jones panties. I could get a grand in those bad boys,” I say, tapping my nose as I let her in on my master plan to earn more cash. She’s all out laughing at me now. “Lu, quit being mean, I’m pretty enough to make a grand!” I whine, slumping back into my seat.

“First off, Robyn, you’re one of the prettiest girls I know.” That warms me and makes me smile. “But if you think wearing Bridget Jones panties will rake in the big bucks, you’re obviously more drunk than you look. Plus, it’s burlesque, there won’t be guys pushing bills into your underwear.”

I narrow my gaze and point at her, poised to say something profound and important, I’m sure of it…but I can’t think what.

“Babe, are you okay?”

It’s too hot, and I suddenly feel as though I’m riding the tilt-o-whirl at the fair. I take a deep breath. Am I okay? No, no I’m not. Oh, fuck!

“I’m gonna—” I clamp my hand over my mouth and look frantically around me in panic. I grab my bag, the closest thing within reach and empty my stomach, dispelling the drinks I’ve been knocking back, along with the toast I ate this morning. Which, coincidently, is the only thing I’ve eaten all day.

“Oh, you’re doing it,” Lucy squirms. “You’re really doing it—right into your bag. Shit!”

I can’t lift my head. There’s vomit coming out of my nose, and my eyes are stinging. Lucy hands me the paper napkins our drinks were resting on, and I try clean my face up before raising my head while she rubs my back and hushes me soothingly. A deep cough interrupts her and I crack an eye open. A large—no, scrub that—a huge monstrosity of a man in a crisp black suit is eyeing me with obvious disdain. If disgust had a face, it would be his.

“I’m sorry, ladies, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he says. His nose is wrinkled; I think he’s holding his breath.

I slump further back into my seat; I couldn’t be more mortified. Why is my life turning to pure shit? I hear Lucy apologize to the guy and then she’s helping me onto my feet and picking my bag up, holding it as far from her as humanly possible while maneuvering me out to the sidewalk. We burst through the doors and a welcomed blast of cold air cools my overheated skin. I revel in it for a whole two seconds before everything angles and begins to spin. I want to grab onto something to stop me from falling off the earth, so I clamp my arms around a post, but it falls and shouts fuck! Then everything goes black.

“Robyn…Robyn, wake up babe. ROBYN!”

I startle and snap my eyes open. Lucy’s face is hovering above me, along with a guy I don’t recognize. My mind is scrambling to make sense of things, but I’m drawing a blank.

“I think she banged her head,” the stranger says to Lu while keeping his eyes on me, scanning my whole face like he’s looking for something. He has an accent. It’s nice.

“Can you sit up, Robz?” she asks, and then everything suddenly clicks into place. I’m sprawled out on the sidewalk because I got sick in the bar, and we were asked to leave. A groan escapes me and embarrassment lights a fire under my skin, no doubt illuminating my face like a shining beacon of shame. I sit up gingerly, and the guy looks relieved. I still don’t know who he is, and my confusion must be evident as he begins to explain my unasked question.

“You tackled me as I was walking past you just now. One minute I’m walking, the next, you grab a hold of my legs and I’m eating dirt.”

He’s wearing an expression I can’t read. The roughness of his voice doesn’t match the look on his face, and I want more than anything for the ground to open up and swallow me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this embarrassed—it’s literally sobering. Seriously, fuck my life.

“I’m sorry,” I offer, lowering my eyes to the ground. “I thought I was falling; I just grabbed onto the nearest thing.”

“I know I’m good looking, sweetheart, but you are definitely the first woman to ever literally fall at me feet,” he smirks and I let out a relieved sigh that he’s amused rather than angry with me.

“I’m Zane, by the way.”

Lucy’s eyes practically roll to the back of her head as she groans, “That was smooth,” and laughs sarcastically. I’m shaking as I take a deep breath, trying to curb my humiliation. Zane twists, throwing a dazzling white smile at her. It stops her frozen, and I watch as her mouth pops open a fraction as her eyes fall to his lips. His smile widens—self-satisfied. He’s obviously used to that type of reaction. He’s good looking and he knows it.

I attempt to stand and my stomach rolls in protest. Lucy and Zane each both grab a hold of me, positioning me between them, and if I thought I could make it home without their support I’d be telling them to let me go, but I’m not entirely sure I’m supporting my own weight at the moment and my legs don’t feel like they belong to me.

“We need to get her into a cab,” Lucy huffs.

That sounds like a great idea to me. I need to lie down.

“There’s no way anyone is going to risk taking her anywhere; she looks like she’s about to get sick or pass out. Does she live far? We can walk her; the fresh air will do her good.”

Lucy pauses a moment, and I want to shake my head that walking is a terrible idea, but the second I begin to move my head from side to side I feel my stomach object to the movement.

“No offense, Zane, but we don’t know you. There’s no way I’m letting you know where she lives. How do I know you’re not some creeper that’s about to chop us up and wear our decapitated fingers as a souvenir necklace? Thanks for the offer, though.”