Through the wall

VIII

Off opened his eyes and quickly shut them again. As the light hit his pupils, he felt a sharp, stabbing pain that seemed to split his brain in two. Turning thirty meant dealing with the consequences of a hangover if you overindulged. He bet his sweetheart and his friend would wake up fresh as daisies.

He sat up abruptly in bed.

"What happened last night?"

The memories started to return like blurry snapshots, lacking much sense. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, he decided to go downstairs for some coffee and a painkiller for his headache.

Paula was in the kitchen, as fresh and radiant as ever. The kitchen was spotless, with no signs of the previous night. The smell of coffee filled the room. Ever since he'd known her, Paula had had a knack for organisation. Not only did she enjoy it, but she was also great at it. In contrast, Ceci had always been a bit of a disaster. Off still couldn't understand how they managed to live together without killing each other. He glanced at the sofa and saw Ceci lying there with an ice pack on her head. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to be in the same boat as him.

"The perks of getting older," Paula said, handing him a cup of coffee and a migraine tablet. "There on the sofa, you have living proof of that."

"Very funny, love, very funny," Cecilia responded, pouting.

"Nice ice pack. Is there another one for me?" Off asked.

"That's what you needed when you got back from the neighbour's house last night. Nothing like a bit of collagen to keep you looking young, eh?" Cecilia spoke with her eyes closed, but her trademark mischievous smile spread across her face.

"Cecilia, please!" Paula scolded her. "Don't say things like that, at least wait until the painkillers kick in!" she said, unable to stop herself from laughing at Off's horrified expression.

"By the way, darling, if you think you're going to get away with not telling us what happened last night, you're sorely mistaken," she paused, thinking carefully about her next words. "And don't even try to say nothing happened, because you're talking to us. Last night, Ceci was so drunk you could have walked in stark naked, and she wouldn't have noticed, but I wasn't. And I can tell you, you looked... how shall I put it... interesting."

Off took the painkiller and sat down at the dining table. Paula, sitting across from him, saw the look of confusion on his face and gave his hand a reassuring tap. He shook his head slightly, trying to jog his memory.

"I know something happened at his place. I'm trying to remember, but it's all a blur. I'm still half asleep, and my head's killing me."

"Oh, darling, I'm certain something happened. Sorry to be blunt, but you came back looking completely dishevelled, your shirt was unbuttoned, and don't even get me started on the state of your lips," she paused, seeing how embarrassed he looked. "Fortunately for you, your sweetheart's poor friend was just as drunk as Ceci and didn't notice."

"Don't remind me," came Cecilia's voice from the sofa. "I'll never forgive you for not taking a picture for me."

At that moment, Off looked down at his shirt, and a flash of memory hit him—he had been kissing Gun up against a door. Suddenly, all the memories rushed back at once. Oh God! He'd behaved like a complete caveman!

"I see you're starting to remember. Is it as bad as it looks on your face? Did you go too far? Did he throw you out of his house? You seemed pretty happy when you came back last night..." Paula's face was growing concerned.

"It's not that... umm... he didn't seem upset. We kissed. It's just that... I think I was a bit too intense."

"Intense, eh? That's my friend, leaving a lasting impression," Ceci mumbled, sounding like she was about to doze off. The painkiller was clearly taking effect.