Star's Theory

July 2

When I wake up in someone else's bed, and by that I mean not the one I sleep in at home, and not the one I flopped into when Mason and I checked in, I don't have that rush of memories of what happened last night. Instead, I lay there with a pounding headache as voices and figures dance around me.

"Hey, cute one, rise and shine," a girly voice giggles and I snap my eyes open. Some girl I've never seen in my life is hovering about an inch above my face, her breath smelling intoxicatingly strong of alcohol. I groan when she gives me a playful nudge, causing a sharp pain to slice through my head. "Come on, the other girls are all ready for breakfast."

Other girls? I don't even want to know the details of last night as two, maybe three, other girls pop in and wave cheerily, empty shot glasses in hand.

As if a switch is turned on, responsible-Atlas kicks in, first reprimanding just-got-dumped-Atlas for drinking (hello, I'm 18?) and probably hooking up with this stranger (strangers?), and then taking full control.

"Oh, I, uh... have a thing," I stutter. Responsible-Atlas isn't that great at coming up with excuses. The girls just giggle again and soon I'm being dragged through their massively large room and towards the door while I will my useless brain to think of something. This was not necessarily what I was planning when I had agreed to go on this cruise ship.

"There you are!" A voice erupts into the scene, but I'm still too fuzzy to comprehend  anything except that it belongs to someone with a cute accent.

"Huh?" I ask dumbly when I realize it's directed towards me. It's him! My savior! What was his name again? 

"Sorry ladies, I'm going to have to steal my dear friend Atlas from you now," he asserts, assuming a very formal tone, "You see, we happen to have a very intense mini golf showdown scheduled right about now and his presence is required immediately."

Mini golf? I've never even played it in my life. But I straighten up as best I can and nod along with the story. Maybe it's the foreign accent, or just that this guy somehow gets everyone to agree with him, but the girls nod and reluctantly let me go, giving a small wave to us as we exit the door, although I'm almost positive it was only meant for Mason. 

"Tsk tsk," Mason chitters as soon as we're out of earshot, "I leave you for one second at the club and find you the next morning completely off your face at nine in the morning?"

Off your face? What does that even mean?

"To be honest, I didn't peg you as a party hard animal when I asked you to room with me. Do you know how many doors I had to awkwardly knock on before I found you?" 

"You didn't have to do that," I grumble, still leaning on him to walk, "But, thanks." Who knows what would've happened if I hadn't been saved from those girls?

He gives a bow, causing me to fall off his shoulder and onto the ground. Instead of helping me up, Mason just laughs, "Don't really drink often, do you?"

"No, it was my first time," I mumble, glaring at him as his eyes widen in surprise.

"You're joking," he stares at me, still not making any movement to help me off the ground, "Do you even know how many shots you drank last night?"

I attempt to count on my fingers but after five I can't quite keep track.

"Ok, come on," he hoists me back up, "You need some fresh air and water."

I groan loudly. Fresh air means being outside, meaning not being on a bed, which is the only place I want to be right now.

"And, I'm no liar Atlas," Mason smiles at me wickedly, "So we should probably head over to mini golf."