Until We Meet Again

12. last night

It only takes two seconds after I wake up for my headache to kick in and for the memories of last night to make me freak out.

I know I said I should be getting drunk more often, but that experience has taught me that I really shouldn't. All it took were a few (okay, many) drinks to turn me into a complete different person that almost had sex with a stranger.

Not my proudest moment.

At all.

Madison notices that I've woken up from across the room, and laughs before telling me, "we both sure had a good time last night."

I faintly remember being around her for part of the night before we made our separate ways to new people and spaces. I grab my phone and click through the stories that her and numerous others have posted, some that include videos of me in the distant background enjoying the party and the company.

"Did I embarrass myself?" I ask her.

"No, you might have just saved your reputation actually. You almost slept with Carolina though, and she's straight and dating her boyfriend. . . So he's not too happy about that. But otherwise, you're the talk of the town right now."

That's not what I wanted.

At all.

Although I do find myself resisting the slight urge to giggle at that mention about the girl named Carolina. I don't know a lot about what happened last night, but I do remember that the way she acted is not how a straight girl would have acted. But, it could also be the alcohol. It can make you do crazy things.

I'm not too happy about being the one that a girl used to cheat on her current relationship with though, but I also didn't know. I can't do much to change that. It was one of the few things that was never in my control.

Madison later tells me that she has to leave for a date with her new boyfriend that I haven't met, and I'm left alone in my dorm.

My headache is a gift from that party that's still present. My roommate has mastered the ability to handle hungover reactions, and I envy her for that. I know that there's something I can do that might distract me though.

I look through my contact list again for what feels like the millionth time, and I know that this is in my control. Looking at Delilah's name, I can decide when to hit "call." But will I do it?

Maybe.

It's just complicated. Feelings overcomplicate everything, or it might just be me being me. I don't know a single damn thing about this world. It's been 4 years, and I still know nothing. But, time isn't real. Nothing is.

Delilah easily made her way back into my life like not even a second had passed. Last night proved that I might go insane if I don't try to get some closure to whatever her story is, so my fingers quickly type out a message to her and send it before my mind can fully catch up. Before I know it, I see her own grey response come in, "are you ready? Or do you feel like you have to be ready?"

There's not much of a difference there. I tell her to stop being ridiculous and give me an explanation. She then makes the decision to call me herself rather than participate in some silly exchange of texts, and I clear my throat before saying, "hello?"

"I'm sorry about what happened," she tells me.

She could be apologizing for anything, but I know she's referring to that fateful day four years ago when she moved away. Her family somehow moved all of their belongings in the span of 24 hours, and I was met with the sight of a blank canvas when I had gone by to see her later at night.