M, actually.

The Aftermath

It was 12:30 pm the next 'morning'. My head was aggresively pounding and any source of light made me cringe. It took every inch of strength inside me to just open my eyes. When I finally brought myself to do it, something sparked my attention. I noticed the hard wood floors and dark walls and realized this was definitely not my room. Suddenly, the adrenaline kicked in to defeat the hang over as I sat up and noticed the stripped covers and room adorned with stacks of books reaching my hips. What I didn't notice, however, was the absence of whoever's home this was. I forced myself off of the bed and to the kitchen; I was adorned in nothing but a big t-shirt and one sock.

"Uh hello?" I called out, to no avail. I began to walk around the anonymous apartment. It was clearly owned by someone in college, the NYU indicated that. It was a short walk through a small hallway when i reached the kitchen, inside of it I saw someone dressed in just boxers and an oversized Smith's shirt. "Hi" I repeated myself. The unknown man jumped and revealed himself to be none other than Nate.

"Emily- uh- Emma, sorry." He fumbled, "Hi uh, you must be wondering like 'hey what am I doing in Nate's apartment?' "

"Yes, that thought seemed to have come up."

"Well, um ok, let me explain. But its like a really long story." He was so nervous, it was almost cute.

"Sure, but can I get some coffee first?" I interrupted. "I need some caffeine in my system before I even try to remember what happened last night."

A fresh batch of coffee and waffles later, Nate began to reminisce about the fiasco that was saturday night. I sat leaning on his counter wearing his oversized the 1975 shirt, barely listening as I took in his messy bed head, raspy morning voice and adorable little dimples that seemed to appear every once in a while right at the corner of his cheek.

"Hey Nate," I interrupted "you have a really good taste in music, the smiths, 1975, some of my favorites." The dimples appeared again.

"I feel like you didn't take in any of what I just told you, did you?"

"Not one bit." I smiled back, "mornings tend to do that to me. All I know is at least you're not some crazy psyco and I guess im safe. Thanks for letting me crash here."

"No problemo. Hey if you'd like, we can go get some lunch in a bit. I know a really good sushi place just next to here."

"You had me at sushi."

____________________________________________________________________________

"You mean to tell me you've never listened to Lana del Rey? Like ever?" I questioned a now fully dressed Nate. He giggled in response to my extremely serious question.

"Nope, is that bad?"

"BAD? Was the holocaust bad? Yes, its terrible. She's one of my favorites, I can't believe you listen to the Smiths and 1975 but you've never heard of Lana?"

"Hold on, did you just compare me not listening to Lana del Rey to the holocaust. You're quite the fucked up lad." He joked, to which we both bursted out laughing. With Nate it was nonstop laughs, but it was also great how we could shift to completely serious subjects. I had barely spent four sober hours with the guy and I was already incredibly, maybe too, comfortable with him. We spent about another three hours sitting at the sushi place, discussing countless bands, singers, books and more. Our taste in music was practically the same, minus his one Lana flaw, he was like my other half.

"Ok, as much fun as this is. I think I should get home, I have a ton of homework and my friends probably think im dead."

"Probably, he joked. It was really nice meeting you Emma."