Breaking Stereotypes

You snore like a trucker.

The first thing I notice is the smell. It's clean, fresh, and there is some kind of food wavering in the air. Then I hear the music. It's Spanish music that is blasting through the walls. There is a faint sound of a woman's voice letting her beautiful tongue roll with the music. Finally, I notice the pounding in my temples, and the flashing light blinding my eyes.

I groan and roll over. The sheets I'm laying in are dark, navy blue. These are not my sheets. My sheets are light purple, and I have a twin bed not a queen-sized bed. Shit, shit, shit. I don't know where the heck I am, and I don't remember anything. Looking down underneath the blankets I let out a deep sigh of relief. I still have clothes on. Wait, but I'm wearing a big shirt that has a picture of the Rolling Stones on it. My pants are girl shorts. Those are definitely not mine.

The room has crisp white walls, and one big window. I grab the sheets while standing up to check out the room. There are several different posters on the wall. All of the posters are of different musicians or bands. Nirvana, Rolling Stones, Janis Joplin, Blink 182, and even Buddy Holly. The walls are covered in posters. This is definitely not Ryan Miller's room. There's a picture frame on the dresser. I begin to pick it up when two things happen at once. The door opens, and I can feel my stomach aching up. I'm going to puke.

"You okay?" The voice asks when I push past.

"Bathroom! Where's the bathroom?" I hardly comprehend that it's Reid that grabs my hand and leads me down the hallway to a bathroom.

Dropping to my knees I pull the toilet lid up, and empty my stomach. Reid grabs my hair, and begins rubbing my back.

"Almost done? I swear you can't have anything left in your stomach."

I spit after I finish and wipe my face with the back of my palm. "Shut up."

He laughs at me. "You know, I almost made a joke about how seeing you on your knees turns me on, even if you're throwing up. Be thankful I'm being nice. You fucked up last night."

I glare at him. "Once again, shut up. Please."

He smirks at me before giving me his hand to help pull me up. The lights in the bathroom are so much brighter that I wince and close my eyes. He continues to pull me so I just lean my head into his back. Finally he shuffles us both into his room, shuts off the lights and pulls the curtain. Thankfully he turns on the little lamp on his nightstand so we can still see.

"So, other than the raging headache and puking, how do you feel?" Reid is still grinning and all I want to do is hit that stupid, attractive grin off his face.

"Like shit. Actual shit."

He starts laughing, and it's such a pretty sound. "My mom made some breakfast. It's a whole lot of greasy food. That's the best to cure a hang over. And there's some pain killers downstairs in case you want it."

I groan. "You're parents are home? I'm so embarrassed. What happened last night? Last I remember was that I was dancing with Miller, and had to throw up. I remember he came behind me to help me, and that's all."

Reid scoffs, "Yeah, right. Miller didn't do shit. He was pissed off that you left him hanging, and didn't even realize you left to yak everywhere in Keith's bathroom."

Now I look at him weirdly. I distinctly remember Ryan following me after I told him not to, and then he pulled my hair out of my face. And where the heck were my friends? Who's clothes am I wearing? Clearly it's Reid's shirt, but did he really have to give me the shorts of some girl who he slept with?

"Reid, can you just start from the beginning?"

He sighs, "Yeah. I guess I'll start where you blacked out."