Paper Planes

I woke up with a killer hangover. I let my eyes focus as I stared at the clock.

“It’s eleven,” he said.

I flipped around, quickly. I bit my lip and scrambled to get the covers over me. He laughed and smirked a little. “It’s nothing I didn’t see last night.”

My mouth dropped open. I don’t feel that hungover. “We… We didn’t… did we?”

He laughed. “No, no. I, uh, saw you getting dressed.”

I glowered and slapped him across the face, sitting up.

“Ouch. What the fuck was that for?”

I still haven’t mastered understanding American curse words, so that phrase sounded very odd to me. “What?”

“Why did you slap me?”

“Because… I didn’t have sex with you.”

“Well that doesn’t seem like a very fair trade off,” he mumbled.

I smiled, then stopped when I realized how bad my head hurt. “Why aren’t you as hungover as I am? You definitely seemed a lot drunker than I was.”

He smiled, nervously. “Sometimes I don’t get that hungover.” I nodded. “I’ll go make you my hangover cure-all. Wait right here,” he said to me. I nodded, still a little wary of my surroundings, and he left the room.

I really hope I didn’t sleep with him. I tried not to get too drunk, and I remember parts of last night. I remember, erm, undressing him. But nothing past that. From what I remember of that, too, he was passed out.

I drifted back to sleep while I was waiting.

Tucker’s Point of View

So I wasn’t actually that drunk last night. Sue me. I wanted to see if she loosens up when she drinks. I mean, I was planning on getting hammered, but when she decided she would stay…

I mean, it’s not like I like her, or anything. I just wanted to see what her deal was.

And plus, I got to see her naked.

Score one for me.

I made her my hangover cure all and took it upstairs. I set it on the nightstand and sat down on the bed next to her. She probably needs more sleep. I sat there staring at her for a little while, in a totally ‘people look weird when they sleep’ way, I swear. Then I got up and got dressed.

Jeans and a t-shirt. I kept peeking over my shoulder to make sure she wasn’t awake and watching me. It’s not like it matters, really. I went down stairs to make myself some breakfast, and settled on leftovers. After that and some TV, I walked upstairs just in time to see her start to stir.

“Wh—did I fall asleep again?” she asked. I’ve gotten used to her accent, and it’s not hard to understand her anymore. Her accent isn’t bad. Like, not thick.

I nodded and pointed to the nightstand. She grabbed the glass and swirled it around a little. I laughed at her. “Just hold your breath and knock back a mouthful.”

She bit her lip and stared at it for another second before doing so. I laughed at her face when she put the glass down. “I think my hangover’s better,” she said.

I smiled at her and she smiled back. “Cool, so if you could just clean up the house a little, it’s a little trashed. Everyone’s gone, so, you shouldn’t see anyone. I’m going out.”

Her smile faltered and then she nodded. “Sure. Have fun,” she said.

I think she watches TV shows and learns new phrases, because she says the weirdest stuff sometimes. The other day she called me Ricky when I got home, because she thought it was what women were supposed to say to men when the got home from work.

Odd.