Grabbing my bag, I head out to my first class of the day. This is my busiest day of the week. I have two exams and a review lecture. I’ll have to find a quick lunch between classes since I won’t return to my apartment until later this evening.
Returning a text promising to pop into the pub for a pint with some of the guys, I head out of the apartment. Getting lit this evening sounds like a pretty fucking good idea right now.
By eleven that evening, I‘ve managed to finish both exams successfully, review for my next one at the end of the week and make it to the pub. Actually, I’ve already been at the pub long enough to put away an ale and four shots of whiskey. We’ve played billiards where I won several pounds, thanks to Lily, and had the darts taken away from us by the bartender.
“I’m calling a cab for you, mate. You are way over your limit to walk home.” The manager is a good-natured guy from Cornwall who I’ve gotten to know during my four years here. He hails a cab, pouring me in and giving the cabbie my address.
I’m not that drunk, I think, as I try to stop swaying long enough to unlock the bottom door to my flat.
The climb to the third floor proves to be an even greater challenge as I seriously debate just sleeping in the hallway, but I think I still have a beer in the fridge that needs addressing. If I’m already this drunk, one more can’t hurt.
After what seems like an eternity scaling the equivalent of Mt. Everest, I make it to my door. Odd, I must have forgotten to lock it this morning in my fucked up state. That’s a new one for me. Opening the door, I fall to my knees right inside my flat.
“Fuck!”
Okay, I can hear myself slur my favorite cuss word. Maybe I have had more than enough for tonight. I still can’t chase the thought of Sophia leaving out of my mind though. There’s a slim chance if I pass out, she’ll stop haunting me.
Using the coffee table, I hoist myself back up from the floor, drunkenly brushing off my shirt. Just one or two more pints should do me.
“You’re a complete fucking dumbass.” I hear a familiar voice growl at me from the only chair in the living room.
Staggering back a step, my heart feels like it might leap out of my chest. Staring at him like he’s an apparition that just appeared in the corner, the little brother voice in my head insists I play dumb. Not hard considering the state I’m in.
“Grayson?” I ask.
He sighs as he stands, crossing over to me.
“Good lord. You smell like a fucking refinery. Apparently, you reached the distillery stage a while back and just kept going.” I grin at the dark shadow as it turns into my older brother or more like two visions of my older brother. A shiver runs through me at the horrific thought of Grayson as a twin.
“Watzup?” I give him my casual chin lift I perfected in high school. I’m still slurring pretty bad, but I think I might get away with it.
“Fuck, Teddy!” he says as I belch in his face. It’s fine. I can still bluff my way through this.
Then I feel my stomach start to roll, looking up at him in desperation. Grayson, always the smarter brother, is more astute at judging my condition than I am. He spins me around, grabbing me by the back of the collar. In about two strides, I find myself face down in the toilet as the ale makes its reappearance.
All I remember after that was throwing up forever, being forced to drink water, someone taking off my shoes, and a really terrifying scowl on Gray’s face.
* * *
“Wake up, you stupid douchebag.”
Oh fuck, I wasn’t dreaming. Grayson really was here last night. I so desperately hoped it was just a bad dream. I crack my eyes open to searing pain as my stomach tries to roll itself out of my body.
“What smells of rotting donkey ass?” I moan.
“It’s eggs, you little shit. Now get up and come eat.”
“Grayson. I’ll puke if you make me eat that. I swear I will.” Raising my hand in some form of a surrender sign, my eyes remained clamped shut.
“Good. This time I’ll hang you out the window by your ankles while you do.”
Grayson is a big guy, bigger than I am anyway. I’m not sure he wouldn’t do it just to prove his point.
I drag myself over, dropping into the closest chair, managing just barely to pry at least one eye partially open. Grayson plops a plate of ham and fried eggs down in front of me before starting on his own plate of breakfast. Desperate to quell the automatic gag that rises up in me, I chance a glance at him.
“Why are you poured into one of my t-shirts?” I can’t even muster a convincing smirk as I study him in the Ed Sheeran concert t-shirt he has managed to squeeze into. Judge me if you want, the man puts on a damn good concert.
Grayson looks up from his plate, glaring at me.
