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(*) italics are a flashback, or something that happened in the past.
James woke up the morning after the beach side party with a hangover and a headache pounding on his temples and made his head feel like it was just about ready to explode. He stirred in what he thought was his bed until he realized that it was actually the warm sand of the beach. Startled, he quickly sat up and he looked around. He had never left the beach after the party ended. The sun was up, just barely over the horizon, and it was early morning in Nayarit. Where he laid was a secluded part of the beach, but in the distance he could see the hotel where he had bee partying with his friends, and the remains of the previous night's party.
Tourists inundated that part of the beach now. Some of them on a morning jog, others getting ready to start the day with some surfing. To the other side he could see nothing but a lone hut made out of rotting wood and palm tree leaves.
The Colombian footballer couldn't remember how he had gotten so far from the hotel area, the last thing he remembered was getting to the party and drinking himself into oblivion. He didn't know where his friends were, and he didn't know if they were looking for him.
He reached into his pocket to get his cellphone out.
His clothes were damp, as thought they had been drying all night, and when he clicked on the power button, his phone blinked once with the apple logo, before the screen went entirely black.
He threw his head back on the warming sand beneath him and let out a groan. He was too tired and hung over to even move, but he would need to do so before the press got word of him being passed out on the beach. Soon the area would be swarming with paparazzi trying to get pictures of him for the gossip tabloids. He pushed himself up with his elbows and then got back on his feet, forcing himself to stumble into the safety of the hotel he was staying at.
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At eight o'clock sharp James made it to the lobby where his friends said they would be waiting for him, but he was the first one to arrive. Little by little, his friends trickled into the lobby and the last to arrive was Edwin Cardona. He informed his friends that his wife had been giving him a lecture about behaving if he didn't want there to be negative consequences.
