Read Falling for Free Online Page B

God. The drinking. She makes her way to the bathroom, ripping open a box and digging through it until she finds a bottle of painkillers. Tipping two tablets into her hand, she leans over and puts her mouth to the faucet, swallowing the pills with amouthful of lukewarm water before walking back to bed and sinking into the covers with a moan.
    Emma doesn’t remember the last time she had a hangover. However bad she is feeling, though, Sophie must surely be feeling worse. Sophie didn’t drink any water, and Sophie was hammered. Emma pats the bedcovers for her phone, and, squinting at the screen, she taps out a text.
    You alive?
    The dots appear, before one word. No.
    Emma grins and puts the phone down, closing her eyes to wait for the painkillers to take effect, trying to remember what happened last night. Dominic had been sweet and solicitous, looking after them at the bar, pouring them drinks on the house far longer than he should have. His girlfriend, Gina. Bitchy. Probably not who she would see him with only because he seems so nice, and she seemed . . . insecure and rude.
    Nothing terrible happened, she is sure. And it was fun, even though it’s not something she wants to do on a regular basis. Someone asked for her number; she can’t remember who. She only remembers giving it to him, with one digit off.
    An hour later, having dozed off again, Emma wakes, this time feeling guilty. There is so much to do today, so many boxes to unpack, so much organizing. She pads into the kitchen to dig out a jar of instant coffee from one of the boxes. (She hates instant coffee but always has some on hand in case of emergencies.) As she hauls the boxes from the high pile in the corner, there is a knock on the door. She’s not as alarmed as she was the first time this happened, but she still can’t help but wonder who could be knocking on the door?
    â€œHello?” Emma calls from the kitchen.
    â€œIt’s Dominic,” comes the voice. “I’ve come to start working on the shelves.”
    Emma catches sight of herself in the door of the microwave. She’s in men’s boxer shorts and an oversized T-shirt, with her hair a tangled, frizzy mess. Shit. She doesn’t particularly want to be seen like this, but she is stuck. She runs to the bedroom, grabs an elastic off the nightstand, and scrapes her hair back into a bun, then goes to the door, opening it a crack and peeking her head through.
    â€œI’m not even dressed,” she says. “Can you give me five minutes? I had no idea you’d be here so early.”
    â€œIt’s eleven o’clock,” says Dominic. “Bit too much drinking last night?”
    She blushes, but laughs. “Thanks to you constantly refilling, yes.”
    â€œHere.” He hands her a cup of coffee through the door. “I thought you might need this.”
    â€œGood God! Are you the greatest landlord ever?”
    â€œI aim to please,” he says.
    â€œThank you. This is amazing. Can I just put some clothes on? Give me five minutes. Is that okay?”
    â€œSee you in five minutes.”
    Emma runs to the bathroom and looks at her face in the mirror. Her eyes are puffy, her skin grayish. She washes her face and splashes it several times with icy cold water, pinching her cheeks to bring some color back into them. Her makeup bag sits on the dresser; she looks at it, but no. It would be ridiculous to put makeup on. Maybe just the tiniest bit of concealer to hide the shadows under her eyes.
    Her clothes are still packed, but she finds a clean T-shirt and denim shorts. A roll of deodorant—the shower will have to wait—aspritz of perfume, and a shakeout of her hair before gathering it back again, and she is, if not her best self, at least presentable.
    Not that it should matter in the slightest, she tells herself. But she wants to redeem herself after last night.
    She’s soon back to open the door again. But when she