Jenny
“What the f**k was that?” I snapped, jolting up from sleep the following morning at the sound of an engine and blaring of a car horn.
The room reeked of s*x, sweat, Tara’s c*m and mine. Tara gasped, scrambling off the couch, her torn dress barely clinging to her hips.
“That’s—Ethan’s car!” she exclaimed, her wide eyes darting to the window as she gripped my arm, her nails biting into my skin like she was clinging to a lifeline.
“Stay here,” I said as I yanked my jeans up but she was already moving, barefoot and frantic.
“Jenny—he’s hurt!” she cried, shoving past me toward the door.
“f**k,” I muttered, as I followed her out the room. He had crashed the car against a tree, the door to the driver's seat hanging open. He stumbled out, whiskey stench rolling off him. His tie was
