Chapter 2: The Hangover

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Something prodded me in the face. I waved a hand at it, then, when it persisted, finally cracked my eyes open.

The room was bright, the midday sun beaming in, illuminating the figure before me. Through half-closed eyes, I managed to piece together Mike's face. Debonair as always, his hair was up, slicked back. I gripped the bedsheets, tugging them over my head.

"Piss off."

"Don't be rude," he said, yanking the sheets back. I groaned in the brightness. Propping myself on one arm, my head split open. Only now did I realise my mouth was like mud, and my stomach trembling.

Even more alarmingly, I realised I was in a bed. Not my own. And Mike was here. I opened my mouth to speak, but was too hoarse to do anything but groan.

"Rough?"

"As a badger's arse," I said.

"You always do this. Get smashed, then moan about the hangover,"

"It's half the fun," I lied. "Is there a reason you're bothering me?"

"You've slept all morning, it's time to get up."

"Where am I?"

"Lacy's spare bedroom," he said. "Joe slept on the sofa,"

"You slept with Lacy?" I finished.

The smile faded from his face. "How did you know?"

"I'm hungover, not a retard. The house only has three bedrooms, and you're strutting like a cockerel,"

"That obvious?"

"Yeah." Clambering out of bed, I took one look at the ill-fitting pyjamas. "Where are my clothes?"

"On the floor." Mike looked away.

Dressing quickly, I shambled down the stairs, unsteady. The green dress was stained down the front, which, combined with my breath, filled the house with odour alike a brewery.

As Mike and I entered the kitchen, the aroma of cooking bacon filled my nose. It took all my strength not to retch. Joe smiled through a mouthful of sandwich, whilst Lacy buttered bread.

"Butter on your bacon butty?"

"Nah," Mike said.

"I'm not hungry," I said, staggering to a chair.

"Mike, make yourself useful, get her a drink," Joe said.

Mike looked offended. "You do it?"

"You're on your feet and my hands are greasy." Joe raised his fingers in proof.

"Just do it," Lacy sighed. As Mike strolled to the tap, I muttered under my breath.

"Whipped.

Joe sniggered. Lacy turned, her brow furrowed. "What was that?"

"Ignore them," Mike said, plating up. Ceramic clattered on the table and Lacy pulled out a chair. "So, last night, huh?"

"What the hell happened?" I said, draining the glass in one go. "Thanks Mike," I added.

"Fucking everything," Mike said.

"Her name is Lacy, not everything, I'll have you know," I said. Lacy punched me in the shoulder, and I swatted weakly. "Go easy on me, I'm weak," I said.

"Don't dish out what you can't take back," Mike said, as Lacy readied another punch.

Joe, who's laugh had faded now, reached between us. "Alright, so everything happened last night."

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