Nia woke to a throbbing headache that seemed to pound in rhythm with her heartbeat. She groaned, rolling over in bed, squinting against the daylight that streamed through her blinds. Every inch of her body ached, a reminder of too many drinks and cocktails and too many emotions.
She tried to bury her face in her pillow to block out the world for a few more precious minutes, but the pounding in her skull refused to let her drift back into oblivion. Giving up, she pushed herself into a sitting position, blinking in a daze at her bedroom.
It took her a few seconds to realize she was still in last night's dress—a form-fitting black number that now felt uncomfortably tight and scratchy. Her makeup was smudged, her curly hair tousled from sleep. She had to have looked like a mess.
