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Sabrina
Oh God, who didn’t close the curtains? The light creeping into the room is enough to make me think it’s morning and I need to get out of bed, but I think I might be dead. Is the light heaven? If I’m dead, I don’t have to get out of bed, right?
I’m never drinking again.
I try to peel my eyelids open, but it feels like there’s sandpaper on my corneas.
Oh, this is bad.
Okay, I’m pretty sure I’m in Murphy’s bed. As sure as I’m going to be until I can get my eyes to work again.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what the hell is wrong with my mouth?
Why does it feel like it’s full of cotton balls?
What the hell did I do last night?
Oh, no. I’m starting to vaguely remember Murphy pulling my hair, but it wasn’t sexy. No, it was to keep it from falling in the toilet while I vomited.
No. No. No. My brand-new boyfriend spent the night holding my hair back while I puked—the whole freaking night.
I try to roll over but only manage to drop an arm off the side of Murphy’s gigantic bed. Wow. That took way too much energy. I think I’m done for the day.
The floorboards creak, and heavy breathing reaches my ears right before I feel something warm and wet lick my hand.
“AHHHH!” I jolt up to sit and can feel my pulse pounding in my head right before the room starts to swim around me.
Wrong move.
Too loud.
Too much movement.
I try to get my bearings, but the room is spinning.
“Sabrina.” I hear the creak of the door before Murphy’s footsteps make their way to me. I’m pretty sure it’s him, but opening my eyes is a little too much to ask right now.
“Princess, what’s wrong?”
I blink a few times, try to force the sandpaper away, and attempt to focus. “Okay, at least I didn’t go blind. That’s a thing, right? I’m pretty sure the nuns told us you can go blind from grain alcohol.”
Murphy squats down so he’s eye level with me. “You’re not going blind, babe. But your head might feel like it’s going to explode. Why’d you scream?”
“Oh.” Turning my head, I scan the room...slowly. Nothing is going to be happening fast today. “I felt something. It licked me, and it wasn’t you.”
That’s when I spot a slobbering, chubby brown and white bulldog sitting on its hind legs next to the nightstand. “Oh, God. I forgot about the dog.”
Murphy scratches between the drooling little devil’s ears. “Brina, meet Rocky. Rocky here kept me company last night. I held your hair, and he refused to leave your side while you were praying to the porcelain gods. I think he might have gotten a little drunk from licking the sweat off you.”
“Seriously? Could this get any more embarrassing?”
“Nothing to be upset about, Princess. It happens. Maybe next time lay off the Everclear.”
I try to shake my head, but it hurts. Murph reaches over and grabs a bottle of water from the nightstand and cracks it open. He hands me two ibuprofen and the bottle. “You’re gonna wanna take these. Then take a nice, hot shower, and we can try to get some toast into you.”
“Aiden, I’m so sorry.” I gently place the two pills in my mouth and gingerly sip the water.
“Nothing to be sorry about. I just want you to feel better before tonight.”
