Her brain was throbbing slightly when she finally opened her eyes the next morning, no doubt from the alcohol-induced dehydration the night before. She’d grown so accustomed to his lingering scent that it took the sight of his folded-up undershirt on the bed for her to remember that he had been there last night. She rolled over with a deep sigh, pressing her face into the pillow that smelled the most like him. The time for internal denial was also over. She was absolutely obsessed with him. 