Rory's Christmas

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Drew was in Heaven.

Mind you, it was a bit blurrier than he would’ve expected and his face hurt like nobody’s business, but he was pretty damn sure this was Heaven because there was an angel right in front of him. She had these long, luscious locks that reminded him of hot chocolate and winter (and therefore Christmas, so that made him happy), these beautiful red lips that were slightly open in concentration so he could just see the tip of her pink tongue poking out (Ooh. How absolutely delicious.), and just the prettiest brown eyes ever that shone with stars and were filled with a mixture of panic, despair and concern. (Drew almost cried for her. He didn’t want to see his angel looking so sad.)

But what really cut the deal was her clothes—or rather: her pink, sparkly jacket that was unzipped and hanging open just enough for him to see the pale white bra she was wearing underneath—O, the whiteness of virginal innocence!—and the mounds of round flesh it held up that were calling out to him with their tantalizing softness, just begging for his touch. Drew took his time admiring them, imagining his fingers running over the swells, cupping and—

“YOU PERVERT!”

A palm connected with the side of his face so hard he saw stars.

“Owwwwwww…” he groaned.

“Oh my God! Oh Lord—oh—”

Shouldn’t that be, like, double blasphemy? “O Angel, why did you hit me?” Drew lamented with his best you-hurt-me-Mommy-can-you-kiss-my-boo-boo-better voice. He was hoping she would kiss a lot more than just his “boo-boo”, though.

“I’m not an angel, idiot,” that same voice snapped. “Now open your eyes and sit up. You need these painkillers.”

Drew frowned. “That doesn’t sound very angelic,” he scolded. “Shouldn’t you be waiting on my every whim right now? ‘My wish is your command’ sort of thing?

“Why, you little—”

“Rory. That’s enough, girl.”

Rory? Hmm. That sounded familiar. Drew tried to ignore the billions of chainsaws trying to worm their way through his skull and dug long and hard through his memories for a ‘Rory’. One of those girls he’d banged? No, she wasn’t there on the Drew Campbell’s One-Night Stands—Senior Year Edition List. Nor was she there for the College Year 1 Edition, and he was pretty sure he had stopped sleeping around after all that shit blew up in his face last Christmas. So who—

Something ice-cold and wet splashed over his face and he woke with a loud “OI!”

“About time,” said a brisk feminine voice. Drew had to blink several times to get the water droplets out of his eyes before he came face-to-face with his own visage—upside down? What?

“For Christ’s sake, it’s a glass of water.” His reflection suddenly tried to kiss him and Drew tried to push it away, but it kept coming. WTF, man? “Just take the damn thing and drink it!”

Drink it—?

And then his vision finally focused, and Drew realized that no, he wasn’t coming onto himself. It was a glass cup of water held in somebody’s hand, being offered to him. And all of a sudden he was very, very thirsty and his throat felt ridiculously parched and he hurriedly snatched the cup away and started chugging.

“Slow down, you’ll choke,” came that voice again, only sounding bored. A slim hand took the cup away and held out some pills. “Take them. Painkillers to help with the headache.”