Caitlin point view.
The first sensation I registered was pain, a merciless throbbing behind my eyes that pulsed in time with my heartbeat. The second was unfamiliarity, silk sheets against my bare skin instead of my usual cotton.
I forced my eyes open, immediately regretting it as sunlight stabbed through floor-to-ceiling windows I'd never seen before. This wasn't my cramped studio apartment. This was... luxury. A hotel room, one that probably cost more per night than my monthly rent.
"Oh God," I whispered, my voice raspy and foreign to my own ears.
Slowly, fragments from the night before filtered through the fog of what must have been too many drinks. My brother Ryan's birthday celebration at some exclusive club. The VIP section. Him introducing me to friends whose faces blurred together. Dancing. Laughing. A man's hand at the small of my back.
I clutched the sheet tighter around me, taking inventory. My head pounded. My body ached pleasantly in ways that told stories my mind couldn't fully recall. And I was completely, undeniably alone.
The bathroom door was slightly ajar, but a quick call confirmed no one was hiding in there. No note on the nightstand. No evidence anyone had been here at all, except for the rumpled sheets beside me and the faint scent of expensive cologne.
"Classy, Caitlin. Really classy," I muttered, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.
My dress from last night lay in a puddle of emerald silk on the floor. I snatched it up, along with my underwear, and dressed quickly, ignoring how the room tilted slightly.
In the bathroom mirror, I hardly recognized myself. My carefully applied makeup had smudged into dark circles beneath my eyes. My chestnut hair, which I'd spent an hour styling, was a wild tangle. But it was my eyes that startled me most wide and lost, like I'd misplaced something essential.
My fingers automatically went to my throat, searching for the familiar weight of my grandmother's silver pendant, and found nothing.
"No, no, no," I whispered, diving back into the bedroom.
I tore through the sheets, checked under the bed, rifled through the pockets of my clutch. The necklace the only thing my grandmother had left me, the one item I'd promised never to lose was gone.
Tears pricked at my eyes as panic rose in my chest. I couldn't remember taking it off. I never took it off. Had he, whoever he was, stolen it? Had it broken during... whatever had happened between us?
My phone buzzed from inside my clutch, displaying six missed calls from Ryan and a new text:
WHERE ARE YOU? Mom's freaking out. Call me NOW.
I sat heavily on the edge of the bed, reality crashing down. I, Caitlin Moore, 20-years-old dependable database administrator, the "responsible one" in the family, had disappeared from my brother's birthday party for a one-night stand I could barely remember.
"Pull it together," I told myself firmly, breathing deeply to calm the nausea that wasn't entirely hangover-related. "You're an adult. This happens to people all the time."
But not to me. Never to me.
As I gathered my things, I tried desperately to recall the man's face. Dark hair, I thought. Strong hands. A laugh that had made something warm unfurl in my chest. Nothing solid enough to identify him, just impressions and sensations.
My phone buzzed again. Ryan: Seriously, Cait. Are you okay?
I texted back quickly: I'm fine. Got separated. Explain later.
I couldn't tell Ryan what had happened. He'd either tease me mercilessly or go into overprotective brother mode, neither of which I could handle right now.
At the hotel room door, I paused, scanning the room one last time for my necklace. Nothing. Whatever connection had flared between me and the nameless man last night, he'd left with more than just memories I couldn't fully access.
"Goodbye, mystery man," I whispered to the empty room. "Hope you enjoy your souvenir."
I stepped into the hallway, closing the door firmly behind me, certain I would never see him again. Whatever had happened in that room was best left there, a single night of uncharacteristic abandon that would fade like a dream.
Later, in the back of a ride share that cost more than I wanted to spend, I leaned my forehead against the cool window and tried to piece together the fragments of last night.
The club had been Ryan's choice—all flashing lights and pounding music. Not my scene, but I'd gone because it was his twenty-seventh birthday, and because our parents had guilt-tripped me into "keeping an eye on him." As if my younger brother, vice president at a tech startup, needed babysitting.
"Almost there, miss," the driver said, jolting me from my thoughts.
"Thanks," I mumbled, watching downtown Phoenix blur past.
I remembered the VIP section now. Ryan pulling me through the crowd, introducing me to a group of men in expensive suits who didn't look like they belonged in a nightclub any more than I did.
"Guys, this is my brilliant big sister, Caitlin," Ryan had announced proudly. "Cait, these are the sharks I swim with. Be nice."
They'd all smiled politely, offering handshakes and immediately forgettable names. All except one. He'd stood slightly apart from the others, watching me with an intensity that had made my skin warm.
Had that been him? The one who'd taken me back to that hotel room? I pressed my fingers to my temples, frustrated by the gaps in my memory.
The car stopped outside my apartment building—a decidedly unglamorous complex that stood in stark contrast to wherever I'd woken up.
"Thanks again," I told the driver, overtipping to compensate for my disheveled appearance.
My apartment was exactly as I'd left it—small, neat, and depressingly empty. I dropped my keys in the dish by the door and headed straight for the shower, desperate to wash away the evidence of my recklessness.
Under the hot spray, more details emerged. A deep voice murmuring in my ear on the dance floor. The brush of lips against my neck. His hand covering mine at the bar as I'd traced the condensation on my glass.