Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
The first thing I feel is a giant wet lick up the side of my face.
The second thing is pain. Incredible pain in my head.
Not trying to be dramatic, but I’m pretty sure my head is going to explode.
I know the wet face is courtesy of Morgan.
I have woken up like this before, but why am I in so much pain?
I lie in my bed as still as possible, mentally scanning myself head to toe.
Headache? Check.
Dry mouth? Check.
Eyes? Fuck why is it so bright in here?
Lying on my stomach with one leg hanging over the bed facing the window, nausea rolls through my stomach.
I very carefully slide myself off the bed into a sitting position on the floor and look down at myself. Boxer briefs and one sock. Okaaay? I look around and see that there’s no sign of my dog. Very slowly, a few memories from the night before surface in my fuzzy brain.
Drinks with friends at Bob’s.
Yes, I did that.
Hannah showing up with Danny.
Ugh, that guy.
Shots, shots, and more shots.
Oh my god, why?
Trying to talk to Hannah.
That didn’t go well.
Hannah leaving with Danny.
Devastating.
After that, things get even more unclear. It’s then I notice the smell of bacon cooking and the sound of people talking downstairs. If I have any chance of surviving this hangover, I need to find Tylenol.
Very cautiously I climb to my feet and make my way to the bathroom to relieve myself. I’m not steady enough to have a shower so I pull on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before heading downstairs barefoot.
“There’s our dancing queen!” Carson laughs as I walk into the kitchen. “How are you feelin’, buddy?”
“Why the fuck are you yelling?” I groan as I sit down. “I feel like death.”
Riot is standing at the stove with a towel over his shoulder scrambling eggs.
“That doesn’t surprise me. There’s water and pain meds.” He nods his head towards the glass and two white pills on the counter in front of me.
Both men appear to be showered and ready for the day. How is that even possible? I look at the clock on the stove. It’s after 11 a.m. Oh man, I’ve lost a lot of daylight this morning.
“I fed Morgan and he’s been outside a few times,” Riot tells me.
The dog is patiently waiting for someone to share a piece of bacon with him.
“Thanks, man.” I pop the pills into my mouth and swallow the cold-water praying relief kicks in quickly.
“I’m way too old to be this hungover,” I grumble.
“Nobody told you to switch to vodka. You did that all by yourself, dancing queen.” Carson hums the ABBA song and shimmies in place as he butters some toast.
“No wonder I feel so disgusting,” I reply, holding my head in my hands as I lean on the counter.
Peering up, I ask Carson, “What’s with the dancing queen bullshit? Since when are you into ABBA?”
Both men look at each other and burst out laughing.
“Oh fuck. What happened?” I ask, looking between them.
Riot turns and slides a plate in front of me heaped with hashbrowns, bacon, cheesy scrambled eggs, and toast. This looks and smells amazing.
“What exactly do you remember about last night?” Riot asks, sitting down beside Carson across from me.
They both have their own plates heaped up and begin to eat.
“Not much after Hannah leaving,” I reply, scooping a fork of eggs into my mouth and chewing cautiously.
All good. It’s going to stay down.
“So, you don’t remember asking the DJ to play Achy Breaky Heart and demanding everyone dance with you?”
“Fuck off, I did not.” My eyes bug out of my head.
“Oh, but you did. You looked like Elaine from Seinfeld out there dancing.” Both men start laughing again.
“Bullshit, that didn’t happen,” I say in disbelief. I never dance.
Riot pulls out his phone, taps it a few times, spins it and hands it to me.
To my absolute horror there I am on TikTok, singing and what can only be described as flailing.
There are a few people out on the floor trying to dance with me, but there is more in a semicircle surrounding me, clapping to the beat and cheering me on. More than one phone is out.
“Fuck my life.” What was I thinking drinking that much? I have not been that drunk in years.
“You requested the song, man.” Carson starts singing using his fork as a microphone, “Don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart.”
“I did not,” I say in disbelief. Do I even know that song? I must.
“You did, but that was after the DJ told you he couldn’t play the hokey pokey,” Carson says, struggling to keep a straight face. “You argued it was beginner level line dancing.”
“What the hell?” Both guys kill themselves laughing at my expense.
I continue to watch the video in shock. Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “Whose hat am I wearing?”
“No idea, man. You stole it right off some girl’s head. I’ve never seen her before. She tried to give you her number, but you declined telling her and this is a direct quote, your ‘achy breaky heart belongs to someone else.’”
Riot rolls his eyes as he lathers a piece of toast with jam. Carson is just shaking his head trying not to bust out laughing again.
Thank fuck Hannah had already left.
“You are horrible friends, why didn’t you stop me?”
“Trust me we tried, man. You told us you were just trying to live your best life.” Riot shakes his head in disbelief.
“Wait, did I settle my bar tab? The last thing I need is people thinking I skipped out without paying.”
“You’re good. Ryan paid for everyone. He said not to worry about it; it’s a welcome home gift.”
I don’t know Ryan that well so that’s embarrassing. I’ll have to get his phone number so I can call and thank him.
“How did we get home? Did you drive?” I question, continuing to rub my aching temples.
“Also, Ryan. I spent the night to make sure you didn’t die of alcohol poisoning,” Riot confirms. “That’s a great bed in the spare bedroom by the way.”
“Thanks, I appreciate you looking out for me. I’m sorry you needed to. Did you stay as well?” I ask Carson as I tentatively sip some coffee.
Oh yes, that will help.
“Nah, I came back this morning because I knew Riot would make hangover breakfast for you. Thank you for this.” He mock salutes Riot.
He just shakes his head and continues to eat.
“I never drink that much. Well, at least not for a long time.”
I did my fair share of drinking and acting like an idiot for a couple of years in my early twenties, but nothing this embarrassing.
“Well, I hate to break it to you but there’s more.” I watch Riot visibly grimace.
This must be bad.
“What do you mean there’s more? How can there possibly be more?” I put my head back in my hands and groan.
I have been home less than two weeks and have made a complete ass of myself. Everyone, and I mean everyone, will be talking about this for months.
“What else did I do?” I peek back up at Riot.
“You called Hannah,” he says exasperated.
“I tried to stop you.”
Carson starts laughing, shaking his head.
“Laugh it up, asshole.” I mutter, shooting him a glare.
Turning back to Riot, I ask, “Did I say anything, you know, that I shouldn’t have?”
I’m afraid of the answer. I may have just blown up any possible chance I had with her.
“No, I intercepted the call in time.”
“Wait,” Carson interjects, “what’s goin’ on here?” He points back and forth between Riot and me. “Dude. Was last night the first time you saw each other?”
I shake my head once, ignoring his questions.
I’m grateful he doesn’t press for more information.
I love Carson, but he doesn’t know why I broke up with Hannah and stayed away from Emerley.
He didn’t ask, and I didn’t volunteer any information.
Riot is the only person I have trusted with any details of my life in the last decade.
Nobody else is going to know before Hannah does, and I’m glad it didn’t happen last night.
“I don’t remember talking to her at all. How much damage did I do? Was she pissed?”
“Honestly, I think she was more concerned than angry.”
“I’m sure she will totally forget about the call once she watches this video.” Carson laughs as he plays it again.
Fuck my life.