The Hardest Part of Today is a Hangover.

I was sitting in the bar that Christian worked at, flaunting my fake ID to get some beer from the bartender, when some asshole ran through the double doors, his face bright red and contorted in anger. Christian emerged from the doors, not far behind him.

“It was on the tapes, Rick! It’s not my fault,” Christian yelled, obviously trying to reason.

The Rick guy turned around. “Just shut the fuck up, okay? You know I was wasted—it’s not my fault!”

Christian shook his head. “I’m sorry, man, but it’s against the health code policy for somebody to have sex in the bar—wasted or not. You have to be fired, dude. Maybe you should think before you act next time.” His voice was calm and very reasoning, but the guy’s eyes just flared with anger.

“Fuck this,” he shouted, knocking over a table with his hand, “I don’t need this fucking job anyways!” He stomped out of the front door, attempting to slam it behind him, but it closed on its’ own, making him look like a complete idiot—well, more of an idiot.

Seconds later Christian was sitting next to me, sighing. “Well,” he sighed out, popping open a beer on the countertop, “We have a job opening. You want it?”

“Christian,” I started, but then lowered my voice to a whisper, “I’m not twenty-one. I can’t work here.”

He just laughed, jerking his head towards the door, “Neither was he.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get you in trouble, Christian,” I sighed, taking a drink from my beer.

“Positive,” he laughed. “I’d rather give you an illegal job than you be broke and have me cover all of your tips until you find a legal one.”

I punched him in the arm. “Shut up.”

He laughed. “As long as you’re not working with Caitlin, I’m fine.”

“Christian,” I warned, cutting my eyes at him.

“What?” he laughed, wiping the sweat from his brow.

It was a hot, hot day in Portland, Oregon.

“I can’t picture you in hose and stilettos,” he laughed. “Caitlin can pull it off—she has long legs, but you’re a short shit. The only thing you’d look would be entertaining, not sexy,” he laughed again, taking a swig from his beer.

I hit him in the chest, making him cough and the beer come out of his nose.

“That’s what you get,” I laughed, pulling my ringing phone out of my pocket. It said it was Caitlin, so I flipped it open, a smile on my face.

I swear she’s psychic.

“Yes?” I chimed into the phone, trying to move away from Christian as he wiped his face with the back of his hand—there was beer all over the place.

“These mover people just called me—they’re outside my house and they need you to come and get your shit. Apparently your sister told your parents where I live and now you’re permanently living with me—Yay!” she said happily into the phone. I could practically hear her bouncing in her voice.

“Alright,” I laughed, “Can you come pick me up?”

I didn’t have enough money to get another car since I totaled mine, so I was stuck bumming rides off of everyone else. It was a tad bit pitiful, but I figured it just added to my list of issues right now—what was one more on the fucking thing, anyways?

“Yeah,” she laughed, “I’ll be out front in three. Hurry up.”

“ ‘Kay. Bye.”

I hung up quickly and stuffed my phone in my pocket just as Christian spread a wet, sticky substance across my cheek. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Christian, you asshole! That came out of your nose—ew!” I shrieked, wiping my face off with the back of my hand and lunging at him.

“Ah, ah, ah! You can’t beat up your new boss,” he laughed, falling off of the barstool and onto the floor, which emanated a loud thump, making me laugh.

“You are such a loser, sweetheart,” I continued to laugh, collecting myself and walking towards the door.

“Yeah?” he shouted after me. “Well, you’re fired!”

“No,” I laughed, “I’m not.”

[-Oli-]

I was walking through the confusing streets of Portland, trying to find a bar of any sort. I couldn’t take this anymore—this state of mind that I was in. I couldn’t keep beating myself up just because Anna had so obviously moved on from me. I just couldn’t fret myself about it anymore.

“Jesus Christ! Where is a bar in this fucking city?!” I shouted, stopped in the middle of a sidewalk and huffing. I probably looked like a lunatic, but that was a good thing—I felt like one at that moment.

Suddenly a bar seemed to appear before me and I smiled.

How I had missed that before was beyond me—and it kind of made me feel like an idiot…I blame I on the heat—but I brushed the thought aside and quickly raced across the busy streets to the bar—which looked empty—and swung open the door.

It was pretty much empty…probably because it was two o’clock in the afternoon and nobody got shitfaced that early in the day. Well, at least not normal people with lives and people that liked them back…

Stop thinking about it, Oli, you git, I groaned inside my head, rolling my eyes and quickly walking over to the nearly empty bar.

“Can I have a beer?” I rushed out. I felt like I hadn’t drank in forever, when it was really only three months. I hadn’t had anything in three months—as far as I’m concerned, that’s a record.

“ID?” the guy muttered, not looking up from the counter.

I noticed the scruffy hair as I pulled out my wallet from my back pocket and nearly crapped my pants right there. How I could have no noticed before was beside me. It obviously wasn’t my day to be thinking today.

“Christian?” I muttered, half afraid of being wrong and half afraid of being right.

“Wha- Oli?! Holy shit, man!” he shouted, finally getting a good look at my face. “It’s good to see you again!” he laughed, reaching over the table and grasping my hand in a firm, crazy handshake that involved way too many steps for me to remember every again.

“You work here?” I laughed, looking around the place.

Basically, it looked like shit.

He laughed. “Yeah. I know it looks like shit now, but at night this place lights up like the fuckin’ Fourth of July,” he spoke, looking around the place, cleaning a glass with a dirty as hell washcloth.

I reminded myself to never drink something out of a glass from here.

“Cool, cool. I’ll have to check it out sometime,” I mumbled, my thoughts starting to get to me.

What if the reason why Anna is over me is because she’s with Christian? What if my joke had actually made her think about him and move on to him? What if I’m sitting here, like the idiot I am, talking to the girl I’m in love with’s boyfriend—and he’s laughing inside his head at me.

“So how are you?” he started, leaning against the counter.

I shrugged. “Been better, really. You?”

“Alright. Barely getting by, really,” he muttered, handing me an already open beer and smiling, “It’s on the house.”

I nodded. “Cool. Thanks, man.”

“No problem. I’ll just take it out of Anna’s paycheck,” he laughed.

I spit the beer out everywhere. “Anna works here?!”

“Yeah. You just missed her,” he laughed, then his eyes went wide, “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah. You did, man,” I muttered, laying my head down on the counter and groaning at myself.

Stop thinking about her, you twat. Just shut the fuck up, I ordered myself, though I knew I wasn’t going to listen. There was no way in Hell I could stop thinking about her—I was hooked beyond ever coming back.

“Sorry, dude. I know you’re having a hard time with her. She’ll come around eventually, though. She’s just having a hard time right now,” he mumbled silently, getting back to cleaning the glasses.

I nearly gave myself whiplash when I looked at him. “You’re not dating her?!”

“No, man, no!” he laughed. “I would never do that to you. I know you love her more than you let on—and you already let on a lot.”

I laughed nervously. “Yeah, well—“

“Just don’t worry about it, man. Give her some time. She’ll come around.”

“I hope you’re right man,” I muttered, taking a large gulp of beer and sighing, hoping with every ounce of my being that Christian was right—that she’d come back to me eventually.