Shatterproof V: Unfortunately Sober

I felt ill.  My head throbbed, a tight ache pulsating in my temples.

"Ugh," I groaned, slowly levering my body into an upright position.  Squinting between my eyelids, I saw…

Not my bedroom.

I groaned, and flopped back among the pillows.  It had to be a dream, I told myself, snuggling back under the down comforter.  I must have gone out with some of my girlfriends, and they spiked my drink.  They spiked my drink for laughs even though I'm barely twenty.  They probably put me up here and had their cameras ready for when I freaked:

Leslie's Drunken Panic now on YouTube.

"How are you feeling?"

I lay very still, and felt a sinking sensation in my gut.  I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking NO with every ounce of brainpower I had.  Clutching the pillow, I shrank into the sheets.

He chuckled.  "That doesn't fool me," he said.

I groaned again.  "Go away."

"Not on your life."

"Why are you still here?  It was all just a bad dream.  A drunken hallucination."

"You wish."

Scowling, I sat bolt upright.  "Don't tell me that!"  He leaned on the wall near my head, a grin plastered on his face that would have made him, under different circumstances, rather handsome.  I folded my arms across my chest – belatedly remembering my sprained appendage; I had to re-shift everything so my arm didn't throb – and refused to look at him.

"Sounds like you're feeling rather well," he said.  "What would you like for breakfast?"

"Nothing," I said, pouting.

My stomach gave a ginormous growl that tapered off into an upset rumbling.  He grinned even wider.

"Okay, fine," I spat.  "Bacon and eggs."

A smug smile on his face, he strutted off toward the hotel suite kitchenette.

* * *

(This piece is part of an ongoing serial story. You can catch up on the plot via the Serials page. If you liked this work, please consider purchasing one of my other stories, or some of my music for your collection. )