Page 45 of Intoxicated
Chapter 14
CHER
It’s not Drew’s snoring, twitching, or night sweats that wake me up around eight in the morning. Nor does the sunlight streaming through the window affect my ability to stay asleep.
No, what wakes me up from my exhausted slumber is something much more sinister.
My stomach.
Cramps, to be exact.
Youknowwhat I’m talking about. Maybe you think that Chinese food you devoured the night before is coming back to haunt you.Maybe.But when you’re about three days away from your scheduled visit from Aunt Flo, youknow what it is.
I jerk upright, half-awake. Right away, I feel the tell-tale sign of my uterus having a big laugh at my expense.
It’s all right. It’s okay. I only spent half the night rough-fucking the asshole snoozing next to me. I may have taken a long shower before collapsing into his bed around eleven, and he may have loaned me a T-shirt to wear so I didn’t have to sleep naked, but I’m not going to regret any of it.
Although you and I both know that a good, hard fuck sometimes encourages that asshole in your uterus to come roaring out like it’s entering the Thunder Dome.
I’m not wearing underwear.
That reminder becomes painfully obvious as I roll over and attempt to creep out of bed. My underwear from the day before is somewhere on the floor, and I have a tampon in my bag. This should be okay. Get to the bathroom before…
Before…
Oh. No.
Oh, no no no no no nono!
I’m barely out of Drew’s bed before I realize that the most horrifying thing that could ever happen to a girl has happened… to me.
Behold. Dark red splotches all over Drew’s white sheets.
My thighs are covered in blood. I literally look like some serial killer has climbed through the window and stabbed my abdomen until I bled to death. Well, I may be ghostly pale, but it’s not because I’m dead. It’s because I’m utterly mortified to the point that I don’t think to quickly grab my shit andrun.
That’s what I should do. Grab my clothes, throw something on, and get the hell out of here!Never talk to this scrub again!
I won’t be able to look him in the eye, that’s for sure. Not without turning the same hue as the shit that sloughed off my uterine lining.
“Morning.”
My head whips around without my permission. There, standing in the open bedroom doorway, is Drew. His tousled hair goes swimmingly with the stubble all over his face and the generous happy trail descending into his gray sweatpants. The same ones he had been wearing when he hauled me to this bed and fucked me for half the night.
Words I intended to say come out in pitiful whimpers.
His smile falls off his face. Is it too late for me to run into the bathroom and lock the door behind me? It’s not going to save me any face, but I’ll feel better for two whole seconds! At least my fright has shut off the downstairs pipes for two extra seconds. A girl can only stand here with bloody thighs for so long.
