20 Questions

Chapter 99

Hunter

I am desperately searching for the semi-truck that plowed into my head last night. I don't remember the headlights but the pain and nausea I feel while the room spins tells me I was definitely hit. I don't even remember drinking that much last night. Another thing I don't remember is how the hell I got into this bed, when I changed my clothes or why my damn foot is throbbing and bandaged. I can hear the water turn off in the shower so hopefully that beautiful woman I slept next to (or at least think I did) can help put the missing pieces of my drunken night back together. I wanted to get up and join her, but I'm fairly certain I'll vomit if I move. I've been pretty drunk a few times in my life, but I've never blacked out. Not one time have I ever lost a section of time. Whatever cocktail Tyler mixed up was stronger than anything I've ever consumed.

"Morning, drunkass!" Jenna belts, beebopping out of the bathroom, at a volume that could definitely stand to drop a few decibels. "How's that hangover treating you?"

"I'm never drinking again," I groan, rubbing my splitting forehead.

"Been there a few times. Are you hungry?" she asks, immediately making me gag. "I'll take that as a no."

"Do we have any Pedialyte or Gatorade? I need some hydration, otherwise I am going to feel like shit the entire day," I groan.

"We do not, but lucky for you, you are marrying a nurse and I got something better to fix a hangover," she pipes up, walking into her closet.

Unless it's another beer to just keep this party going, I'm not sure she has anything that's going to help. I don't want to be an asshole to her, but the sound of her digging through shit in her closet is enough to make me start yelling. The noise finally ceases and she comes walking out with an armful of medical supplies.

"What are you doing?" I ask, eyeing all the packages in her hands.

"I'm going to put an IV in you and give you some fluids," she proudly says.

"The fuck you are! I don't do needles," I tell her, scooting over in the bed to get the hell away from her.

"Oh, stop being dramatic," she says, rolling her eyes. "You have tattoos so you obviously aren't that scared of needles. Quit being a baby and give me your arm."

I shoot her a look, but before I can scoot any further away, she grabs my arm and sits on my hand. While I do love feeling her ass in my hand first thing in the morning, this is not what I had in mind.

"Is this going to hurt?" I ask as she ties some rubber band around my arm, of which she calls a tourniquet.

"Not if you sit still and stop being a baby. You will feel a lot better when I get done."

I turn my head while she rambles on about what causes a hangover and all the patients she has treated in the hospital that...blah blah blah. Normally I love watching her talk, but right now, everything is pissing me off, including her incessant stories and her annoying need to fix shit.

"Ok, ok, enough medical jargon. Just put the damn thing in already," I snap.

"It's already in, grumpy ass. I'm hooking up the IV fluids now."

"It's already in?" I ask, bewildered and looking down at the firmly secured IV in my arm. She nods and connects some tubing to it. "Jesus, I didn't even feel you stab me."

"Yeah, because I'm fucking awesome. Don't you forget it," she smiles, obviously proud of herself...and she should be.

I really was acting like a baby. That wasn't anything like I expected. She hangs the bag of fluids on the floor lamp and tells me to hold my arm still while the fluids go in. She trots into the bathroom and comes walking out holding some type of pill of which he tells me to put in my mouth and let it dissolve.

"What is it?" I ask.

"It's a sedative. I'm going to knock you out until you are tolerable again."

"Is it really?" I ask, unsure if I want to take something that will make me drowsy.

"No, shithead, it's Zofran. It's for the nausea. You will thank me here shortly."

God, she is sassy this morning. I like it.

I put the pill in my mouth and it dissolves just like she told me it would. While I lay here in my post-drunken misery, she goes into the bathroom and turns on the loudest hairdryer known to man. It's like she enjoys torturing me. Even though it's loud, the steady hum ends up putting me back to sleep.

~

I am suddenly awoken by the hair being ripped off my arm.

"Fuck!" I scream.

She laughs and throws something in the garbage. "Sorry, I was just pulling the tape off. You are all done. I gave you two bags of IV fluids and you slept right through it. How do you feel?"

I sit up in bed and surprisingly, I feel completely back to normal. Maybe she really does know what she's talking about. Damn, I am marrying a smart and extraordinarily talented woman. My headache is gone, the room is no longer spinning, my mouth doesn't feel like I just licked a litter box and I'm actually hungry.

"I actually feel really good. You're kind of awesome, you know that?" I tell her. She smiles and shrugs her shoulders. She is really good at what she does. I take a quick shower and when I get out, I feel like a whole new person except the fact that I've peed six times already. Those IV fluids are really flushing everything through me.

"Hey, you want to go get some greasy fast food?" I yell into the bedroom. Something about drinking all night makes me want a big ass cheeseburger the next day.

"Now you're speaking my language," she responds, walking into the bathroom.

"You are so beautiful," I tell her. She is wearing some cut-off blue jean shorts, a white V-neck shirt and flip flops with her toes painted pink. It is simple, but she looks absolutely stunning. "Do you think we should ask Tyler if he wants to come along?"

Her body tenses, but I just chalk it up to her distaste for his arrogant ways.

"We can just bring him something back," she says, her voice a little off.

Something seems weird right now, but I can't put my finger on it. I make a mental note to address that later.

After my greasy cheeseburger.