Subtitle The: Hangover

He was sprawled on a floor that smelled faintly of pine cleaner and regret. Around him, the remnants of the night lay like a battlefield: a single silver loafer, a half-eaten burrito, and a literal traffic cone wearing a tuxedo vest. This was the aftermath—the living definition of .

Leo sat up, his brain feeling three sizes too large for his skull. "Guys?" he croaked. subtitle The Hangover

They both looked toward the balcony. Elias wasn't there, but his phone was, pinned under a heavy glass trophy that definitely hadn't belonged to them yesterday. As Leo reached for it, the memories began to strobe back: the neon lights of the Strip, a toast made with something that tasted like gasoline, and a very intense conversation with a man named 'Tiny' who owned a tiger. He was sprawled on a floor that smelled

The sun didn’t just rise; it interrogated Leo’s retinas. Leo sat up, his brain feeling three sizes