Or at least switch toblanco.
I’m too old for this hangover shit.
Groans that are not my own prompt me to finally lift my lids, exposing my blurry vision to a wiggling figure beside me.
Wait.
Why the hell is my vision blurry?
Why the hell can’t I see shit?
And where the hell am I?
Concern swiftly conquers my system, commanding that my stare focuses.
That my limbs wake up.
Get to moving.
Transition me into an upright position.
Unfortunately, the only thing that successfully happens is my gaze locking onto the person, that’s lying on their side, facing me, making the sounds of discomfort.Despite the immediate pain, my eyebrows dart down in confusion, outrage over seeing the woman I’m in love with – something I don’t think she’d believe even if I said – pushes me to fight past the sandpaper feeling in my mouth to croak, “You okay?”
Salay stops rubbing the side of her face against the mattress just long enough to narrow her gaze at me and bite, “Do Ilookokay?”Her shoulders resume their wiggling movement.“Is it my hands being duct taped that gives you that impression?”
The snark – which should have me rolling my eyes – leads to me examining her somewhat immobile frame instead.
Shit.
Sheisduct taped!
Seeing her in such a position has me checking myself, revealing my own restraints as well.
Sonofabitch…so am I!
“Really?”she sassily snips upon managing to gracefully sit upward.“You thought only one of us was duct taped?”
“No sé qué pensar!” I huff back, body bucking around in a failed attempted to match hers.“And why would I know what to think?!” Wildly flopping my torso back and forth steals the air out of my lungs.“Or what’s happening?!” Frustration slams into desperation as I hump the mattress for momentum.“Or-”
“How to sit up while being bound?”arrogantly escapes alongside a mocking head tilt.“You look like a horny mudskipper.”
“Eso suena racista.”
“That wasn’t racist, it wasdescriptive,” Salay insists prior to swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress and standing up.“You’re not even that brown.”
“Thatwas definitely racist.”
Snickers slip loose alleviating a healthy dose of the dread that was overwhelming my system.
She’s okay.
If she can talk shit…give me shit…then she’s fine.
And if she’s fine…I’mfine.
I can take a breath.
A beat.
