I wake up, my head still dizzy and a typical, soaring headache pulsing in my frontal lobe. Even the gentle shrieking of my bed as I roll over feels like stings right through my eardrums into my brain.
'It has it's good aspects, though,' I think. 'This way, at least I know I'm still alive.'
Yet as a shard of a memory of last night paired with the shame it drags along flashes through my mind, leaving a trail of migraine-like, stinging pain in my head, a part of me wishes to have choked on my own vomit while sleeping. It would have been the easy way out. Instead, I know I get to face the most sadistic and mischievous grin on your face. There's still the off chance I only dreamed of bragging to you about my last night's adventure.
Still halfway drunk and ashamed of my most recent exploits, I slowly stagger the few steps from my bed to the small table in the middle of the dorm room where you, my roommate, await me, a dirty, spiteful smirk in your face. You have already prepared a bowl of broth and two aspirins. You know the drill from years of sharing our apartment and you know I would do the same for you.
“Yo dude! You really look like ass today,” you amusedly greet me with a mouthful of cereal, spitting some of it halfway over the table.
I want a firm fuck you to leave my lips but can't manage to let out more than a hungover grunt. You laugh at me and suggest I first swallow the overdue pills and clear my throat with the salty broth.
While I do so you start asking the unpleasant questions right away, rubbing salt into the wound and savoring every moment of it: “The face you made staggering here looked like the expression of true regret. Was that your little walk of shame? It better be, if what you boasted about last night is true.”
Your words hurt both my strained ears and my feelings. 'Why, oh why, do you have to rub in the guilt even more? Revenge for the last time I did it to you? From this point of view, yes, I deserve it.'
I painfully swallow the two pills and, to your delight, burn my mouth trying to flush them down with a large sip of the soup. Tears shoot in my eyes from the pain on my tongue and I feel the pulsations in my brain grow more intense for a few seconds. You are not even trying to hide your amusement. In your defense, I did wake you up last night.
I sigh in relief as the pain weakens.
“So,” you start your sentence, obnoxiously stretching the conjunction, “will I get to hear a raunchy story about what exactly happened with your... ex, last night? I mean, I know the gross plot, but I wanna hear it all in detail.”
For the first time, I can manage a smile. It's not really a smile, though; rather an ugly crooking of the corners of my mouth, showing my resignation to your demand as well as a reaction to the way you stressed the word ex.
“Since you're just waiting for me to talk, I might as well just tell you the whole story.”
Although I'd much rather punch that grin off your face, I take a deep breath before beginning my narration.
*****
As you know, I halfway accidentally bumped into Michelle last night. It was a pleasant encounter altogether, although not exactly the smartest thing to do as you already may have guessed from my mood. Walk of shame? Oh yes, it would be more than appropriate to call it that way.
Oh, just wipe that damn smirk off your face, already!
As you know, I wanted to go to that frat party yesterday, right? In the beginning, I wasn't even sure if I should really go. All my homies had come up with lame excuses. They were probably busy screwing their girls for all I know. I don't care. Fact is, I hadn't found anyone who I considered decent enough company for the night so far.
Never – I repeat: never – would I have expected to get a text from Michelle asking me what I was up to the exact moment I was about to give up any plans whatsoever, order a pizza and settle for a nightlong round of Battlefield.
I just thought, 'what the hell?' Let's just go out with her, right? I mean, what could possibly happen? We split up, like, four years ago. On good terms, that is. No need to tell you. You already know this. She and I had come to realize we weren't meant to be together. 'So what,' I thought? We're old enough to remember why we split up, right?
Dumbest. Mistake. Ever!
So, yeah, I told her I'd planned to go to that party but was about to reconsider since all my buddies had bailed.
Okay, she replied, how about Netflix and chill at her place? I know, it's a corny old joke, but I hadn't done that in a while and it sounded like an actual plan, I thought. Both of us were too aware that hooking up was out of the question anyway – or supposed to be, at least.
Hell yeah! Let's totally do this!
Not wanting to appear like a bad guest, I asked her if I could bring anything. Looking back, I should have listened to that faint, little alarm bell that I thought I heard ringing in the very back of my head while I was typing. It wasn't loud enough to seem like an actual warning from threatening danger, though. Add a mild dose of frustration from everyone canceling and you stop questioning the situation.
As a reply, she, well, reminded me of how she'd always loved my martini sour, adding a few wink-emojis.
Fine. Let's go then.
When I knocked on her door, I sure wasn't expecting her greeting me wearing just some simple, yet sexy cotton panties and a skin-tight t-shirt. I could feel her heavy breasts were bare underneath when she hugged me. On top of that she wore her hair in two pigtails like you can see in all these perverted porn flicks tagged “teen” – usually my great weakness, I shamefully admit.
I don't know what kind of dirty obsession I've always had with barely legal girls. You really shouldn't check my browser history, man. You really... oh man, your fucking grin means you did, right?
Oh, come on, man! What did I do to deserve this? Luckily I'm not in the state to punch you. Lucky bastard. So where was I?
The best sight I got was after she had taken the bottles of gin and vermouth I had brought along, turned around and was walking to across her dorm room to stuff them in the little freezer she and her roomie had installed. Oh man, her shapely, round butt clad in these panties. You know what I'm talking about, right? How many times have I caught you ogling her ass?
Interestingly, I still didn't feel her posing a threat for my libido. It's not that surprising, actually, since we considered each other just friends and were used to keep things comfortable around each other – very comfortable; despite our history, that is. It was just nothing out of the usual, you see? So none of my alarms really went off. Thinking back, well, they should have. All of them. Big time.
While the drinks were cooling, we cracked open some beers and threw ourselves on her bed to watch the latest episode of Game of Thrones both of us had missed and have some pizza from Alfredo's. Nothing really happened between us and after that, we shuffled through some recent movie trailers until we agreed to stream Dr. Strange.
Before we started the movie, I fixed two forty-ounce-pitchers with my best martini sour, added a generous amount of ice cubes to both of them as well as one thick straw each. Michelle's eyes were huge when she saw them. She was still lying on her bed.
“If I didn't know better, I'd say you have something else in mind with me tonight,” she teased, taking her first sip, “delicious! But not as delicious as if you had served it naked.”
The sultry glance she threw me made me choke on my drink. She burst out in laughter, making it clear she had been joking.