The Federation

I woke up with only a vague idea of where I was. By slow advances, I acknowledged the pounding pain beating against my brain and the nausea twisting my stomach into something barely recognizable. Slowly and deliberately, I focused my attention outward and became aware of the long, skinny arms wrapped tightly around my waist, crushing my body against a longer and lankier one. For a single moment, I imagined it was Jimmy and everything—our break-up, the tour, CompleteAnnihilation, Carter—had been nothing but an odd dream. I’d finally woken up from part nightmare, part fantasy, and Jimmy would wake up with me to welcome back reality.

I slowly opened one eye just barely enough to see the man lying next to me, not trusting my perception of reality. As it turns out, I had every right to, since the reality I’d come up within the space of a second ended up being completely false and wishful. Carter lay next to me, his face buried in the crook of my neck and his fingers tracing patterns against my back in his sleep.

I closed my eye again, and instantly the memories from last night flooded my mind. I smiled into Carter’s hair as I reminisced about the feel of his lips moving against mine. Even sober, I felt the same about the very few kisses we’d shared the evening before. It would be even better with a sober mind, rather than just the foggy, morphed memories of my drunkenness.

One of my fingers twirled absently in Carter’s hair. The majority of his spikes had collapsed over the night. His normally soft hair felt crusty and plastic, at least until he washed it. I closed a gate down on the inappropriate thoughts entering my head at the mention of Carter showering. I’m a grown woman. Stop looking at me that way.

Carter suddenly shifted and moaned. Figuring he must have a major headache just as I did, I quickly withdrew my hands from his hair.

“Don’t you dare stop,” Carter threatened in a low voice. I smiled and started running my hands gently through his hair. “This would be better if I was facing you, though.”

“It’s not healthy to just lay here hung-over,” I said. “We might as well get up and moving, don’t you think?”

“I’m pretty good here,” Carter sighed. I grinned and shook my head. I sat up and clambered carefully over his lanky frame. My foot caught in the couch cushion, and I fell face-first into the carpet of my tour bus. Pain exploded across my already-throbbing head and I groaned before slowly straightening myself up.

“Note to self: no climbing while hung-over,” I mumbled. I stumbled towards the kitchen, and a few moments later I heard Carter follow behind me. I pulled a jug of iced tea out of the refrigerator and poured a glass for myself. I took a sip and turned to find Carter standing six inches away from me. I jumped, and Carter laughed.

“Listen,” he commanded, and I looked up to meet his startling blue eyes. “Now that I’m sober and you know I’m sincere...well, we’ve been right close over the past few months, and I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date.”

I smiled, taking another drink of my tea. Carter reached out and curved his hand over mine, raising the glass to take a drink. I leaned up on my tip-toes and pressed a kiss to his slightly rough, unshaven cheek.

“I’d love to, my Cartums Boo,” I answered happily. Carter released my hand and stepped away to grab some Aspirin.