Bright

seven

Head ache. Throw up. Pounding head ache.

I groan and throw my arms over my face. How much did I drink last night? The sun filters softly through my blinds so I know it’s early. I assess the damage; my head is pounding, the smell of sweat fills the room, and my mouth is as dry as cotton. Man, it is dry. I reach out for my water bottle on the night stand but instead, my fingers graze skin. Skin. My hand flinches back and I sit up fast. Too fast because my head starts to spin. I swallow, trying not to let my stomach empty out. My hands reach forward again towards the bare skinned figure lying next to me. His face is buried in the pillows and when I stroke his back, I hear a muffled groan.

The voice sounds familiar but I can’t place it. I poke the figure again. He shuffles and then I see his face. Oh my god. Michael. Naked. In my bed. Michael. My best friend.

I jolt up suddenly. Oh my god. Michael is naked in my bed. He groans again, rolls over, and opens his eyes to mine. It takes him a moment to digest his surroundings but when he does his eyes go wide. I spring up out of bed and the swirling in my stomach continues. My hand races to my mouth and Michael raises so that he is on his elbow, “Stella, are you okay?”

I take a deep breath through my nose, focusing on not puking on my bedspread. But I nod anyway. He looks concerned but a small smile plays over his face. His eyes graze down my body and then I realize. Oh my god. I’m naked. Fully nude in front of my best friend. And he’s checking me OUT?! “Oh my god!” I reach for a tee shirt that’s draped over the headboard and yank it on. Michael chuckles and then I feel the throw up creeping closer. Shit. I scramble as fast as I can to the toilet and barely lift up the seat before dark red liquid spews out.

I feel a little less miserable afterwards but a flash of heat hits me. Even in this thin shirt and nothing else, I still feel like I can’t get cool enough. I rest my head against the cool of the toilet bowl. I should probably be concerned with all the bacteria on my face but I couldn’t care less. Deep breaths escape my mouth. A soft knock is at the door but I don’t reply. A second later it’s pushed open and Michael walks through hesitantly. “Can I get you something?”

I keep my eyes closed and face still. “No, I’ll be okay.”

He walks out the door. My brain begins to process and pick apart the events from last night. The last thing I remember clearly is Perrie leaving. Okay, Stella, THINK. What happened after that? I rub my temples. I remember doing the dishes. Scrubbing them but not focused on them. What was I focusing on?

The memory of Michael’s apology fills my head. Oh, yeah. We made up. Then what? I can recall turning around to face him on the counter. His feet dangled off the edge and his hands were clasped in his lap. His hands. Memory of his hands. Through my hair, on my back, over my breasts. Holy shit. I had sex with my best friend last night. Drunken sex. I groan and lay my head back on the seat. My emotions were racing but I felt a mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and… joy? Did I enjoy it? Did he? Was it okay to do that with your roommate? Was this common in other circumstances? What now? Do most people discuss this or do they just let it be? Did I want to let it go? It wasn’t my first time. I wouldn’t consider myself a specialist in the sex department but I have had two or three experiences. Just nothing like this. At least in those circumstances I knew where we stood. Here, I don’t. Do we proceed with caution or not at all? Do we continue with more? Do I want more? I can’t. I can’t think about that stuff.

Suddenly the door opens and Michael sits next to me on the floor. I become fully aware that I’m still not wearing underwear. He has sweatpants on. “Here” He hands me a bottle of water, Aspirin, and a box of Cheez Its. A smile crosses my face. “Cheez Its?” I tease. He grins, “To soak up the wine.”