Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357
Your body jerks awake, but your eyelids feel so heavy they refuse to lift. Frantically, you search your brain for your last memories. Where were you? Who were you with? Very slowly, the pieces of the missing puzzle begin to come back to you. The last thing you remember was going out on a date with that stunning redhead. The one with the contagious laugh, what was her name?
All of your thoughts are hazy and jumbled. You sort of remember her ordering you a special “Valentine” drink at the bar, which tasted a little grainy, but you didn’t want to be rude, so you gulped it to avoid the texture on your tongue—an action you surely regret now that you can’t move your limbs or even open your eyes. “Shh, baby, it’s okay.” You hear Kayla’s voice; that’s her name. The redhead! Kayla! At first, you think you are just dreaming of her, but then you feel the brush of fingers against your cheek and try as hard as you can to open your eyes.
