Daddy's Best Friend

22

CHAPTER 22

SOPHIA’S POV
"Fuck," 

I woke up with a pounding headache, my brain feeling like it had been run through a blender.

Ugh, the unmistakable signs of a hangover. Groaning, I forced myself to sit up in bed. Memories of last night began to trickle in like a fragmented puzzle, and I winced as I recalled the ill-fated party.

Henry. I had called him, begging him to pick me up like some damsel in distress. And he had. My knight in shining armor. But after that... well, things got hazy.
"What did I do, what did I said," I tried for remember but things were hazy up there in my memory.  

The worry was gnawing at me. What did I say or do last night? I had been so drunk, and drunk me was never a reliable narrator. Did I spill my guts to Henry? Confess some secret love? Make a complete fool of myself?

" I am such a fucking mess and I don't seem to know what to do about that" I groaned to myself. 

Dragging myself out of bed, I attempted to piece together the fragments of last night's escapade. It was like trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.

I remembered the overpowering nightclub lights and the blaring music. Jason had dragged me onto the dance floor, his enthusiasm for the clubbing scene entirely lost on me. But I had gulped down the whiskey he'd handed me, hoping it would drown out my swirling emotions.

The conversation with Jason - it felt strangely significant. We talked about relationships, or the lack thereof in my case. I had confessed my penchant for rare connections, something he apparently struggled with too. But I also remembered mentioning Molly and her long-standing crush on him. Oh great, just what I needed - to be caught in a romantic web with my supposed friend.
"Molly, Molly," her image seem to appear in my memory, as I struggled to piece it together. 

Then Molly had shown up, and our already shaky conversation had taken a nosedive into chaos. She berated me, spewing venomous words as Jason tried to mediate. But emotions had run high, and I couldn't even remember how it had ended. A phone call to Henry, that part was clear.

My thoughts circled back to that phone call. What had I told him? I pressed a hand to my throbbing temple as I mentally replayed our conversation. Had I spilled my feelings, told him something I shouldn't have?

Unable to delay it any longer, I pushed myself to get out of bed. I needed to face the aftermath of last night, no matter how painful it might be.

Walking downstairs felt like entering the lion's den. Every creaking step seemed to echo my anxiety. My heart was racing, and I was almost certain I'd find Henry sitting there, looking at me with a mix of concern and disappointment.

But as I descended the staircase, the living room was empty. Relief washed over me like a soothing balm. Maybe I hadn't said anything too incriminating. Maybe I'd managed to keep my drunken confessions to myself.

 I entered the kitchen, I noticed a steaming cup of coffee waiting for me, a note beside it. My name was scrawled across the paper in Henry's neat handwriting. I picked up the note with trembling hands.

"Sophia,

You looked like you needed this. Don't worry, I didn't grill you about last night. If you ever want to talk about it, I'm here. Until then, take it easy.

-Henry"

My heart swelled with a strange mix of gratitude and apprehension. Maybe there was hope. Maybe I hadn't ruined everything with my drunken antics.

As I sipped the coffee, I decided that today was a day for reflection and recovery. Whatever happened last night, I would face it, just like I always did. And maybe, just maybe, there was a way to salvage this mess I had created.