Chapter 6: A Blur, A Fall, A Message

(Eden’s POV)

The kitchen was too bright.

Or maybe I was just too raw.

I gripped the counter with both hands, swaying slightly as the overhead light hit my eyes like judgment. My pulse thudded behind my temples. The laughter and heat from outside still echoed faintly through the window. But in here, it was just me. And the sound of my own heart crashing into my ribs.

I closed my eyes.

“I’m just tired of being a fucking virgin.”

I hadn’t meant to say it. Not out loud. Not like that.

But the words had come fast, slurred and aching, years of frustration erupting through one mouthful of sweet sangria and reckless honesty.

My stomach twisted. I wanted to disappear.

The back door creaked open. Harper stepped inside, barefoot, cheeks flushed with wine and too much social energy. She held a half-empty bottle of water and eyed me with soft concern.

“You good?”

I swallowed hard and forced a nod.

She raised a brow. “That didn’t look like nothing back there.”

“I was drunk,” I said quickly. “Too drunk.”

“You’ve never been that drunk.”

I couldn’t meet her eyes. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Harper crossed the kitchen slowly and set the water bottle in front of me. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I really, really don’t.”

She hesitated, then gave me a light touch on the arm. “Okay. But maybe… you needed to say it. Just not in front of three dozen people.”

I let out a weak laugh. “Yeah. Not ideal.”

She smiled. “Come upstairs when you’re ready.”

But I didn’t make it.

The last thing I remembered was the floor dipping beneath me. The room spinning sideways.

Then—nothing.

⸻

The next morning hit like a hangover and a landslide.

My eyes blinked open, and the first thing I saw was the ceiling fan spinning above Harper’s guest room. The second thing was Harper herself standing at the foot of the bed, hands on hips, fully dressed and caffeinated.

“Rise and shine, my tragic little tornado.”

I groaned. “What happened?”

“You blacked out.”

That tracked.

“And before you ask,” she added, amused, “no, I didn’t carry your dramatic ass up the stairs. One of the twins did.”

My brain stalled.

“Which one?” I croaked.

Harper shrugged. “I didn’t ask. Probably Levi. He was the last one I saw near you. He said you almost face-planted into the grill.”

“Perfect.”

“You’re lucky we didn’t post it to Instagram.”

I flopped my arm over my eyes. “Just let me die here.”

“Nope. Dress fitting in thirty. Florist brunch after that. You don’t get to die until the rehearsal dinner at least.”

She turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. “You okay though? Really?”

I hesitated. “I don’t know.”

She nodded slowly. “Well, figure it out fast. We’re trying on dresses that require emotional stability.”

She left. The door clicked shut.

I groaned again and reached for my phone on the nightstand.

One text. Unknown number.

Unknown:

What’s your fantasy, Eden?

I froze.

The air seemed to thicken around me.

I stared at the screen, rereading it once. Twice.

No emojis. No name. Just six words.

And somehow… they felt more intimate than anything anyone had said to me in years.