Page 15 of Necessary Roughness
More pain.
The first thing I noticed was the pounding. Not on my door—though that would’ve been better—but inside my skull, like the Westview College band was marching behind my eyes. I cracked one open, only to slam it shut again. The sunlight slicing through my bedroom blinds felt like a personal attack. My mouth was as dry as the Sahara.
Groaning, I rolled onto my side and immediately regretted the motion. My stomach flipped, and I clawed my way to the edge of the bed. Like a blessing, there was a waste basket waiting right where I needed one as I emptied the liquid contents of my stomach inside.
There was a plastic liner inside the trash can. For some reason, that triggered a memory. One I couldn’t quite place.
I groaned and rested my head back into bed. If someone had offered to let me die at that exact moment, I might have taken them up on it. Everything smelled like cheap vodka and perfume. My jeans were MIA; I was stripped down to my pantiesand a plain T-shirt. A different shirt than what I’d worn last night. Glitter clung to my arm and pillowcase, like a rude little reminder of the mistakes I’d made last night.
Last night. The party. I’d taken those two guys upstairs to have a threesome. I didn’t remember the act itself, though. I was sitting on the bed, kissing both of them, and then—
Bits and pieces from the evening came flooding back to me.
I twisted, burying my face in the pillow with a groan. My head throbbed in sync with my heartbeat. My stomach gave another warning lurch. I needed water, aspirin, and half a bottle of Tums. I also wanted a time machine so I could go back a day and stop myself from drinking so much.
Time machine. Had someone called me a time traveler last night? That sounded familiar.
Moving with slow, deliberate steps so as not to anger my stomach, I slid out of bed and made it to the bathroom. I was grateful for being a fourth-year; this was the first semester I had my own private bathroom attached to my bedroom. If I had to walk all the way down the hall to the co-ed bathroom the way I’d done freshman year, I wouldn’t have made it.
After three glasses of water, I went to look for the painkillers in the kitchen.
“She’s alive,” my roommate, Morgan, said from the couch.
“Morning,” I replied. We had been randomly matched up to be roommates; I hadn’t met Morgan until yesterday.
“Did you have fun last night?” she asked with what sounded like attitude.
“Yes. No.” I began opening cabinets. “I don’t remember some of it.”
Morgan closed her book with a snap and stood up. “On the roommate compatibility form, you said you weren’t a party girl.”
“I’m not a party girl,” I said, opening another cabinet. Pots and pans.
“Clearly, that was a lie.” She crossed her arms at the edge of the kitchen. “What are you looking for?”
“Aspirin. Tums.”
“Cabinet next to the microwave. Don’t worry—I brought my label maker, so I’ll label all the doors and drawers today.”
She brought her label maker. Jesus Christ, it was too early for this.
“I don’t want strange men in my apartment,” she said.
I opened the right cabinet, then grabbed the bottle of aspirin. “Same.”
“Let me be more specific,” Morgan said. “Last night, several strange men escorted you home and helped get you to bed. This is unacceptable.”
The twins. Of course. I popped a pill into my mouth and said, “Those are my best friends.”
“I don’t care.” Morgan nodded once, like she was hyping herself up for this confrontation. “In the future, I would like you to provide a list of potential visitors, with their name, phone number, and a copy of their student ID.”
I laughed, then swallowed the pill with some water. But Morgan’s glare only deepened.
“Wait. You’re serious?”
“Uh, duh? Why wouldn’t I be serious about my safety?”
“A visitor list, sure,” I said to shut her up. I couldn’t handle this right now.
