One Plus One Equals One

Chapter 21 - Gwen's POV

From my pounding head, the vomit taste in my mouth and dehydrated feeling I figure I must have been drinking heavily last night. My throat feels like sandpaper, and my head like an axe has been buried in it. It is a little like having the flu, only self-inflicted, which means I will not be getting any sympathy from anyone. Whilst moaning, I stretch out my aching limbs, barely able to open my eyes even in the dim light. Why did I drink so much? I am certainly regretting it now. It hurts just to think.

Burying myself under the duvet, I start to realise that something doesn't seem quite right... there is no fresh linen scent; rather it smells a bit like wet socks. What? Peeking out of the covers, groaning as my head continues to pound, I realise I am not in my room at all! In fact... I am in Cohen's. Gasping, despite my protesting head I quickly check under the duvet, feeling immense relief when I notice my top and skirt is still on. I would simply die if anything had happened between us whilst I was drunk. Where is Cohen anyway? I am all alone. As I start to wake up a little more, I remember a few snippets from last night; each event worse then the last making me feel like I could die out of embarrassment. Before I can further digest last nights happenings, the door creaks open, allowing a myriad of light to infiltrate the room, which assaults my senses causing me to dive back under the covers.

"Morning Gwen." Cohen mumbles, his voice slightly raspy. "I've got some water and a tablet for you; it will help with your head."

"Why do people drink?" I complain, my voice sounding scratchy to my ears. "I feel terrible!"

"It's fun and just the normal thing to do I guess." Cohen says nonchalantly. "Take the pill Gwen, it will help."

I allow him to pull the covers back and help me sit up, swallowing the pill and drinking the water numbly as he presses the glass to my lips.

"Why am I in you room?" I ask after a minute, the pill instantly relieving some of the pounding in my skull.

"I wanted to keep an eye on you – didn't want you to be sick again. You threw up all over my shoes, and then passed out when I put you in my car. I had to carry you all the way up here." He explains begrudgingly.

"I'm so sorry Cohen... I wasn't planning on drinking that much... but, where did you sleep?" I ask, wincing at the awkwardness of the situation.

"Don't worry, I slept on the couch." He rolls his eyes.

"I'm sorry to take your bed." I whisper, feeling like an annoyance and intruder. What crawled up his ass and died?

"It's fine." He dismisses, still standing awkwardly by the bed. "Do you remember much?" He asks nonchalantly, but when our eyes connect I know he is hinting at something more.

I remember a little, but nothing I ever want to address or speak of again.

"Well, I remember drinking too much... and dancing." I reveal, my cheeks burning in embarrassment.

Cohen not so subtly clenches his fists at the memory.

"You know, you were acting pretty jealous last night." He accuses, causing me to go even redder.

"Well, so were you!" I cry out indignantly.

"Oh, so you do remember?" He challenges.

"Not everything, but I remember being ripped away from my dance partner." I snap, becoming increasingly annoyed and glaring at him.

In reality, I will always be thankful to him for stepping in when he did, as I was not in my right mind, and who knows how far things could have gone. However, there is something about his cattiness that brings out the worse in me, making me want to fight back and defend myself. Usually I would be the first to apologise, but he is just so infuriating I cannot bring myself to!