All That and a Bag of Chips

Chapter 8

Sunlight filtered in through the metal blinds, casting stripes of light and shadow across Collin's dark blue comforter. He rolled over in his full-sized bed, his hand hitting empty space. For a split second, he wondered where Avery was.

And then he remembered.

All the events of the previous day, along with the aftereffects of alcohol, fell on his head like an Acme-brand anvil.

"Where the fuck's the Advil?" Collin muttered to himself as he stumbled from his bed and into his bathroom. He pulled open the top drawer of the vanity, took out the white plastic bottle and unscrewed the top. Then he popped four liqui-gels into his mouth and swallowed them down with water from the faucet.

He splashed cold water on his face and brushed his teeth. Cigarette smoke and whiskey dripped from his pores, but at least there was no vomit smell. It took more than three drinks to debilitate him to the point of puking, even if they were strong drinks on an empty stomach.

Why hadn't he eaten anything for dinner? What was he thinking?

He wasn't thinking. That was the problem.

Collin stared at his wan face in the bathroom mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles underneath. Half of his hair was standing straight up, the rest was pasted flat to his scalp. Scattered stubble dotted his upper lip and chin. It was not his best look.

At least he didn't have a shift today.

He had classes on campus, but they didn't start until noon. Plenty of time to finish up his Latin homework and read the assigned novel–Leucippe and Clitophon by Achilles Tatius–before his lecture on Ancient Greek Literature.

What he needed now was a long shower and a strong cup of coffee.

Coffee.

The word niggled at his memory: Hot Heather, yoga.

Collin glanced at the clock. It was just past eight. Gears turned in his mind. If he skimmed the novel on the bus ride to campus, that would conveniently give him time to fit in a workout session at the fitness center. Today was just a lecture. He'd be able to read the novel, focusing on key scenes, before his Monday discussion session with Jordan, super gay TA extraordinaire.

With a plan forming, Collin turned on the shower, already feeling more alert. Stepping under the warm water, he tried to think of what he might say to Hot Heather when he "accidentally" ran into her.

Fancy seeing you here! Stupid.

Going to be here for a stretch? Too corny.

I could really go for a post-work smoothie. By the way, have you used that comp card yet? If you have, I have plenty more. Desperate.

He couldn't think of anything good, but there was no point in stressing about it. As he rinsed the shampoo from his hair, massaging his scalp, he figured he'd just have to live in the moment and trust his instincts.

After toweling off, he tugged on a pair of gym shorts, shimmied into his binder, and pulled a graphic-tee over his head. Then he walked out his door, down the small hallway, and into the kitchen.

Sam, dressed in only yoga pants and a sports bra, was already in the kitchen watching the drips from the Mr. Coffee Pot as they fell into the waiting carafe.

"Coffee..." Collin drawled in a mock-zombie voice.

Sam looked up. "Hey sleepy head."

"Sleepy head? It's only a quarter past eight. I think that's remarkably early after a night out. What time did you get home, by the way?" Collin asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.