SADIE
The poundingin my head feels like the beat of a kick drum.
Those piña coladas were poison.
Tasty, fruity, sweet poison.
I can’t seem to open my eyes. They’re heavy, still drunk from last night.
Last night. What all happened last night?
I remember the Ferris wheel. Forgiveness. Karaoke. Piña coladas. Milo singing with me . . .
Milo sang with me?Yes, he did. And I think I requested our song. Our song about his smile. About all the things left unsaid . . .except did I say things?
I remember something about a mermaid, the stars, throwing up . . .
I threw up.Milo held my hair. He wiped my mouth with his shirt . . .
How mortifying. My vomit on his shirt.
Everything else is a sleepy blur. Feeling like I was cradled in a boat being rocked by the ocean. But it was his arms and the sway of his body as he carried me back to our room, to this bed . . .
I feel around the bed and discover I’m the only one in it. I’mpretty sure I asked him to hold me, but there’s no warmth in the sheets except from me.
I finally peel my eyelids back. I squint at the brightness of the room, the pounding of my head doubling. I groan as I slowly turn over to check the time.
11:03 a.m.
But my eyes take in a carefully laid-out assortment of items beside the clock with a note. I reach for the note.
Bookworm,
I’m having church on the beach this morning. I don’t know when you’ll wake up, but there are two Tylenol laid out. Take those immediately, followed by as much water as you can handle. I brought you up a banana and some croissants. Eat what you can. There is coffee I made in the pot over in the kitchenette, but only after water and food. I’ve only had one hangover in my life. It was brutal, but my tolerance was a little loftier than four piña coladas . . .
I’m leaving my phone behind, so you’ll have to come find me or go back to sleep and I’ll be back.
Hot Shot
My eyes snag onhaving church on the beachfor a moment before they swing back down to the fact that Milo’s had a hangover. I wonder what kind of parties he went to, what his college life was like . . .
But then my head begins to feel as if someone is inside knocking on my brain like it’s a door to open. I close my eyes and carefully sit up, letting my legs hang off the edge of the bed. I open one eye halfway and grab for the Tylenol, placing them on my tongue before opening the water bottleand swallowing.
How long do hangovers last, and why does everyone always act like hangovers are a worthy price for the alcohol? I would have rather had pineapple juice mixed with some coconut. Same taste without the lingering effects of wondering what words came out of my mouth last night.
After about thirty minutes, I’ve managed to drink the rest of the water, eat half a banana, and savor one very flaky, buttery croissant. It practically melted on my tongue.
Milo’s phone buzzes on the kitchenette counter beside the coffee maker.
I slowly stand and walk toward it. I know I shouldn’t look. My eyes dance over a few times toward the screen, but I resist the temptation to read what looks like a text message.
I take a mug and pour some brewed coffee in it, the steam rolling off the top. I inhale deeply, the boldness of it making my eyes widen a little more.
Milo’s phone buzzes again. The screen is lit up, and this time I indulge myself. I lean over and read the text.
Caleb
Hey, man. I know you’ve said you’re not interested, but I know how much you love . . .
