Right. Chaz. The fake name he’d given the woman with the galaxy tattoo and the industrial laugh. The woman whose apartment he’d fled at 6 a.m., tip-toeing past a sleeping cat and a lego minefield, only to realize halfway down the stairwell that he was missing a loafer.
The fluorescent lights of the 24-hour grocery buzzed like a hive of judgmental bees. Liam, still in last night’s velvet blazer—missing two buttons, speckled with what he hoped was chocolate sauce—squinted at the egg section. Walk Of ShameHD
Because, child, Liam thought, I tried to impress a woman by drinking an entire bottle of mezcal and claiming I could ‘speak fluent wolf.’ The woman whose apartment he’d fled at 6 a
“Medium or large?” he croaked, his voice a dry husk of its former self. Because, child, Liam thought, I tried to impress
The answer came not from his memory, which had checked out around 1 a.m., but from a sharp kick behind his ribs. His phone screen glowed with a text from an unknown number: “You left your shoe. The left one. Also, your real name is Liam?? My roommate called you ‘Chaz.’ Awkward.”