Matthew's POV
Her response, delivered with an unsettling nonchalance, only heightened my anxiety. "I don't know, Matthew. I was pretty high myself. I don't know what happened between us.
Looking at the mess in the room and how sore I was the next morning, I think we did," she admitted, her words landing heavily on my already distressed mind. In frustration, I slammed my hand against the steering wheel, as if trying to shake loose the fog that clouded my memory. This couldn't be happening.
A torrent of questions flooded my thoughts, intensifying the disorientation. Who was this guy, and what could possibly be his intentions? The room for confusion and disbelief expanded as I grappled with the unsettling realization that my recollection was shrouded in a haze of uncertainty.
