Bradley Will Simpson is a hopeless romantic whose celebrity status has been dwindling. Quinn Desireé Jones is learning how to love and struggling to get a promotion in her job. When an unfortunate incident leads them to get in a fake relationship, t...
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Although Quinn can perfectly remember what happened yesterday, she cannot remember why she is lying down on someone else’s bed.
She looks around the room for hints so she could identify whose bedroom she is in. For sure, it is not Devi’s room, since the bedroom she is in is larger. It also cannot be Angela’s room, since the collection of guitars at one corner of the room would be something she would despise. Quinn then figures that she is in Sammie’s room, since their room would probably have a walk-in closet. She then grabs her phone, which is neatly placed on the nightstand beside the bed, then she opens her phone and realises where she is.
Of all people she could call in the middle of the night, it had to be Brad.
Her realisation makes the pounding pain in her head stronger than ever, and she is delighted to see some painkillers on the nightstand along with a bottle of water. She grabs the medicine and drinks one down, consuming all of the water in just one sitting. Once she feels refreshed, she realises that she is still wearing yesterday’s clothes, but with an oversized t-shirt on top of it.
“Quinn, you stupid bitch,” Quinn tells herself, then she gets out of the bed and walks to the en suite bathroom, where she sees that her make-up has been removed and that her hair was no longer in the ponytail it was in. She then rinses her mouth and takes another good look at herself in disappointment, not really wanting to face Brad when she gets out of his room.
Then again, maybe Brad already is out? That’s why the painkillers are already on the nightstand so I didn’t have to look for them? Quinn thinks to herself, and without skipping a beat, she grabs her purse, which is at the foot of the bed, and wears her shoes, which are by the doorway, and gets out of the room.
“Oh, there she is. Perfect timing,” Brad says, then Quinn freezes in her position. She looks at Brad, who is pouring some kind of a burnt, yellow goo on two plates.
“Did no one teach you how to cook?” Quinn asks, then Brad looks at her.
“I’m the one preparing you a hangover meal. You should be grateful,” Brad says, then Quinn rolls her eyes.
“I’ll be if it’s edible,” Quinn says, then Brad puts a plate of overcooked scrambled eggs and slightly burnt toast on the island near him.
“Sit down and eat. You need the protein,” Brad says, then Quinn shakes her head.
“Actually, can I just have some water? I really don’t want to eat the…whatever monstrosity you prepared,” Quinn says, then Brad sighs.
“Alright, I get it. I’m not the best cook and the best conversation starter, so I will be straightforward with you. I’ll give you some water, but only if you stay so I can tell you what happened last night from my perspective, then you can tell me yours, if you're alright with that at least,” Brad says, then Quinn sighs.
