All The Odds

Twenty-Two

Hang over headache. The kind that felt like aggressive miners have taken residence in your head and though they found it empty, they are also determined not to leave empty-handed.

So they dug and drilled, hammered and pummeled unrelentingly. Iverson hated it, like 'move on folks, there's nothing here'. But no one said those miners were minders.

What he hated even more, was someone or something waking him up before he finds the grace to join the world. He was naturally not a violent person but a man can only take so much and enough was already going on in his head.

He groaned and shoved his head deeper into the unfamiliar fluffy pillow, but the insistent beeping won't go away. Where was it coming from? He didn't want to open his eyes, not like his eyelids were bulging anyways.

This was one of the reason he was happy to give up drinking. That few minutes of exhilaration just wasn't worth the pain in the morning after.

Blue drove him to this, that damn girl.

Was it poetic or pathetic that a girl was the major reason he quit drinking and another drove him back to it.

'Oh for God sake, someone shut off that beeping what ever it is' He groaned and curled in bed like a toddler. No one listened to his internal plead and he wasn't about to open he eyes.

He patted around on the bed for another pillow or anything to cover his ear. His first inner confusion came when his hand landed on something smooth.

He rubbed his hand on the surface without opening his eyes, this was unlike any other part of the bed. This was really smooth and, warm like the...skin on someone's back?

Iverson stilled his hand's roaming, trepidation began to replace his confusion... No, it couldn't have happened again. Slowly, with his breathe literally locked in his lungs, he squirted his eyes opened and instantly sprang out of bed like a bounced ball when his eyes found the naked body in bed with him.

'Valeria?'

He felt sick to his stomach, how could this have happened again? How much did he had to drink last night? How was he going to explain this?

He scurried backwards on his heels until his back hit a wall. The body stirred in bed.

Something wasn't right but he could hardly see through the haze in his eyes, the pounding in his head and the overwhelming nausea feeling in his gut.

"Turn it off."

The words came from the body in his bed...wait, that wasn't his bed? His bed spread was plain white when he last saw it, not that sick purple with the pink floral patterns?

He looked around, his eyes clearing up a little. The annoying beeping was coming from his laptop on a stood close to a dresser that wasn't his, he could tell that much from the abundant female accessories on it.

Where the hell was he? This wasn't his room! Not the one at Daniel's, not Blue's and the one at his father's house was twice this big. Did Valeria brought him to her room?

"Turn it off."

The voice repeated and Iverson's eyes snapped back to it, focusing on the bared back to realise it was much too thick to belong to Valeria. The person in bed lifted their head to look around when the beeping continued.

"Jesus, Biggie!" Iverson exclaimed in both relieve and shock as their eyes met.

"What? Turn off that stupid noise, I'm trying to sleep here." Biggie complained, nuzzling into his pillow and picking the one Iverson just abandoned to cover his ear.