The Forgotten Gilmore

Chapter Fourty-One: Morning Regrets

Alessia woke up to the dull throbbing of a hangover pounding in her temples. She groaned, blinking against the bright morning light streaming through an unfamiliar window. Her mouth felt dry and her tongue like sandpaper, and as she shifted slightly, she realized she wasn't in her own bed.

"Ugh, where am I?" she muttered, her voice hoarse.

"Good morning, sunshine," came Beau's cheerful voice from across the room. He was sitting in a chair, scrolling through his phone, a slight grin on his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Like death," Alessia grumbled, sitting up slowly and cradling her head in her hands. "What happened last night?"

"You had a little too much fun," Beau said with a chuckle. "Don't worry, nothing bad happened. I brought you here to sleep it off."

She looked around, taking in the cozy yet masculine decor of Beau's room. "Thanks for that. I don't think I could have faced my mom like this."

"No problem," Beau replied, standing up and walking over to her with a bottle of water and some painkillers. "Here, take these. They'll help with the headache."

Alessia took the pills gratefully and downed the water in one go. "You're a lifesaver."

"Happy to help," Beau said with a smile. "How about some breakfast? I can make a mean scrambled eggs."

She gave him a skeptical look. "Are you sure? You don't strike me as a master chef."

"You'll see," he said with a wink. "Just sit tight."

Alessia watched as Beau disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of clattering pots and pans echoing through the house. She took the opportunity to freshen up a bit, finding a spare toothbrush in the bathroom and splashing some water on her face. The cool water helped wake her up a bit more, though the headache still lingered.

After a few minutes, a faint burning smell wafted into the room. Alessia wrinkled her nose and followed the scent to the kitchen, where she found Beau frantically trying to salvage a pan of burnt eggs.

"Well, well, well," she teased, leaning against the doorway. "Looks like the master chef has met his match."

Beau laughed, scraping the charred remains into the trash. "Okay, so maybe I'm not as great at this as I thought. How about we go for Plan B: toast and jam?"

"Sounds perfect," Alessia said with a grin. "Let me help."

They worked together in the kitchen, laughing as they spread jam on the toast and poured glasses of orange juice. They sat down at the small kitchen table, their makeshift breakfast laid out before them.

"So, about last night," Beau began, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Do you remember cuddling a tree on the walk home?"

Alessia groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "Oh no, please tell me you're joking."

"Afraid not," Beau said, chuckling. "You insisted that the tree needed a hug. Then you threw up in a bush a few minutes later."

"Great," she muttered, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I'm never living this down, am I?"

"Probably not," Beau said, laughing. "But hey, it makes for a good story."

Alessia couldn't help but laugh along with him. Despite the hangover and the embarrassing memories, she felt a sense of camaraderie with Beau that she hadn't experienced in a while.

"Thanks for looking out for me, Beau," she said sincerely. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," he replied, his expression softening. "That's what friends are for."

"Yeah, friends," Alessia echoed, feeling a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the orange juice. "I'm glad we're friends, Beau."

"Me too," he said with a smile. "Now, let's finish this breakfast before I burn something else."

They spent the rest of the morning chatting and laughing, their newfound friendship solidifying with each shared joke and smile. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Alessia felt a glimmer of hope, knowing she wasn't alone in her struggles and that she had a good friend in Beau.