Page 25 of Going Overboard

‘Hilarious – no, to cinch this shirt in at the waist, make it actually pass for a dress,’ I tell him.

‘Ah, that’s a good idea,’ he says. ‘Here you go…’

Brody starts undoing the belt he’s wearing.

‘Whoa, no, that’s okay,’ I tell him.

He laughs at me.

‘Don’t be daft, it’ll be fine,’ he replies. ‘They’ll stay on – plus, I figured they’d come off at some point tonight anyway.’

Charming.

I take the belt – which I am grateful for – and it does make Al’s shirt look more like a dress on me. Not the kind of thing you’d wear to a wedding, but it’s better than nothing. To behonest with you, the greatest wedding gift anyone could give Al would be the opportunity to be shirtless.

‘You good now?’ Brody asks.

‘Oh, I’m just fab,’ I reply sarcastically as I examine my soggy shoes. ‘As good as I get.’

He just laughs.

‘Wait there,’ he instructs me.

He disappears into his room for a second and emerges with a pair of flip-flops. I mean, Brody is at least 6’2”, so he’s got a pair of feet to match. They’re way too big for me but also my best option right now.

‘Thanks,’ I tell him.

‘It’s no bother,’ he replies. ‘I thought I might hit the gym tomorrow, and the pool, so I brought them just in case. But the chances I won’t have a hangover are slim.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ I reply.

‘Well, the first one is on me,’ he says. ‘We’ll figure out the other fifty as we go along.’

I smile, just a little.

I suppose I should have more sympathy for Brody, he’s in the same boat as I am (despite me just looking like I had fallen out of it), and I know it’s not a nice place to be.

We step into the hallway, heading back toward the party. I can already hear the thump of music and the distant roar of laughter. Perhaps now that the party is in full swing no one will notice me slink back in. I just want to blend in, to have a bunch of drinks, and have a nice time. I don’t want any more surprises.

God knows what else this day has in store for me. Is it weird that, as terrified as I am, I’m ever so slightly excited?

10

I don’t know what wakes me up, the throbbing pain in my head, the cramping in my back, or the war drums banging in my ears. I think it’s a little bit of everything and it’s a very rude awakening when you’ve got the hangover from hell.

My brain feels like it’s full of broken glass – or maybe it’s just booze and regret, but it doesn’t feel pretty at all.

I groan as I wriggle to try and get more comfortable, and then I realise all at once that the room I’m in is cold, echoey and the bed is rock-hard. Because I’m not in a bed, I’m in a bath. It’s a big Jacuzzi bath, with a duvet in it instead of water, but it’s a bath nonetheless.

I shift upright, my headache intensifying, but I can’t lie in here a second longer. Everything hurts.

Everything hurts more when my arm takes out a neat line of spa products lined up along the edge of the bath, causing them all to clatter to the tiles below.

Shit.

I freeze, caught halfway out of the tub like a raccoon with its paw in the bin. For a moment, there’s silence. Beautiful, hopefulsilence. Maybe no one heard. Maybe I’m alone. Maybe I can pretend this didn’t happen and slink out of here without embarrassing myself any more because, frankly, I filled my quota for the year yesterday.

Then the door bangs open.

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