Missing You Again

Frisky in Frisco

Oh god. I hope someone got the license plate of the truck that hit me. My head was pounding and judging by the churning in my stomach it wasn't a truck but a large bottle of vodka that had hit me. An arm lay heavy across my waist and as I shifted beneath it the fingers belonging to that arm clasped at my hip reflexively. As I swam fully into consciousness I realised that I was starkers. Totally naked. As in send nudes, nude. Not something that I'd normally be over concerned about when I woke up with a hangover. It wasn't uncommon for me to decide halfway through getting ready for bed that it was all too hard to put on pyjamas when I was drunk. I wouldn't have worried but there was that arm...

I closed my eyes and slowly turned my head on the pillow, as much in an attempt not to jostle my brain as it was in trepidation over who I'd see attached to the arm. When I opened my eyes a couple of things happened simultaneously; the harsh morning sun beaming through the windows past the open curtains sent a stab of pain to my brain – fuck you San Francisco, you couldn't roll the clouds and fog in for me this morning? – the way I sat bolt upright dislodged the arm of the man slumbering face down next to me with his face turned toward me on the pillow and my sudden upward motion had my stomach heaving in protest as a fine layer of sweat instantaneously coated my body.

"Oh god!" I gasped and bolted from the bed toward the bathroom. Lunging for the toilet I dropped to my knees on the cool marble seconds before the contents of my stomach ejected themselves. Moaning pitifully I gasped and heaved until there was absolutely nothing in my belly. I slumped back against the wall too wrung out to even move and resisted the urge to lay my naked body down on the ground and whimper. I was getting too old for this shit. The chill from the air-conditioning was evaporating the sweat from skin and I began to shiver but I couldn't even sum up the energy to drag down a towel to cover my nakedness and warm me up.

"Hey," came a voice from the doorway and I turned my tired and watering eyes to take in the sight of a robe clad Zacky looking down on me with concern. I should have been worried about him seeing me naked but that horse had well and truly bolted, I had far bigger concerns than flashing my best friend.

"If you need the toilet you'll have to use the other one. I'm not capable of moving right now," I forced out a breathy whisper and slumped to the side. That floor was looking better and better by the moment.

"Shit. Are you okay?" he asked. I tried to shrug or shake my head but either option set the jackhammers off so I settled for whimpering.

"Jesus," he said and stepping into the bathroom he crossed the expanse of marble, seriously the bathroom was huge, my first flat in London was smaller than it was, and flicked on the taps before soaking and wringing out a wash cloth. Then he was on his knees beside me brushing the hair back from my face and wiping away any evidence from my epic session of puking.

"Come on," he slid an arm around my back, "let's get you up."

"No, just leave me here to die," I moaned.

"C'mon K-Wow. No man left behind." He hauled me to my feet leaving me no option other than to shuffle pitifully along beside him. "There you go," he said as he helped me into bed before disappearing and shortly afterwards reappearing with a wastepaper bin in one hand and a bottle of Sprite from the bar in the other. He set it down on the floor beside the bed and put the Sprite on one of the bedside tables before he crossed the room to the bathroom. When he emerged he had two glasses in his hands, he filled them both with Sprite before handing me one along with a sleeve oh headache pills that he retrieved from his pocket. I desperately washed a couple of pills down then set the glass back on the table with a shaking hand. Zacky gently pushed me back into the pillows before climbing in next to me. He tucked me in close to his body and began to gently sift his fingers through my hair.