A Good Night Full Of Mistakes

Ch. 3

It's 3:18pm.

Most of Scott's hangover is gone and a chunk of his memory of the night before is back after a hot shower and a long, long nap.

There's the guilt, too. There's a lot of that. He shouldn't have gotten so drunk. He knows better. He shouldn't have gotten all needy and kissy. He knows better than that, too. It's not fair, and it could have always led to this; now it has. Now he has to wonder if one dumb, drunken night of passion is going to totally change things with Mitch. This sucks. He banged his best friend and he's not sure if that's something you can just roll back. It's always there, isn't it? Hey, wanna go get Starbucks? Remember that one night we fucked? Ha ha ha!

The worst of the guilt, though, is over how he just ducked out of Mitch's room that morning instead of sucking it up and at least trying to talk about the situation. Yeah, it was terribly uncomfortable. Yeah, Mitch was freaked out; he scrambled away so fast that he fell out of bed, for fuck's sake. But Scott feels shitty about not even apologizing, or offering to make some coffee and talk things over, or anything but getting all weird and leaving with the drunken sex elephant still lumbering around the room.

And now Scott is sitting cross-legged on his bed trying to figure out how to fix things, or to at least make sure nothing winds up broken.

They have to talk. Ignoring the fact that they had sex isn't an option. Even if they decide to forget about it and never bring it up again, they both have to agree to it.

Maybe he should text Mitch to see if he wants to talk? No. It's the least uncomfortable option, sure, but it's lame and impersonal.

Okay, seriously. If the roles were reversed here, how would he want his best friend in the world to handle things? Scott would want Mitch to just sit down and talk it over with him. He'd want him to walk right on in, sit on the bed next to him, and say, "Let's get this figured out, sis." That's exactly how he'd like it to go, so much so that Scott stares at his bedroom door for a few minutes, hoping that maybe Mitch will do just that.

Mitch doesn't, of course, and why should he? The roles aren't reversed. Scott's the one who started this whole thing by begging for a kiss. This is mostly on him so he needs to be the one to apologize and to make the awkward first move.

Maybe Starbucks will help break the tension. Scott Postmates their usual order and only then realizes that he has no idea if Mitch is even still home. Shit. It's Saturday and they don't have any work for the day; he probably did go out to enjoy some free time. Hell, as freaked out as he was this morning, Scott wouldn't be surprised if he left as soon as the coast was clear.

Still, he should try.

Once he sees their coffee order is nearly there, Scott quietly makes his way downstairs. He takes a detour before heading to the front door to see that Mitch's bedroom door is shut, offering no hint as to whether the room is occupied or not. He's not sure what he expected. A neon sign, maybe?

Better news when he opens the door to take their order from the courier, though: he can see Mitch's car in the driveway, so there's a good chance he's home.

Now to see if he wants coffee and, more importantly, if he hates Scott or not.

Scott takes a couple deep breaths as he walks, trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest.

He knocks. "Mitchy?"