As soon as I open my eyes I regret it. Grunting I wince, shutting them tight. That doesn't help my pounding head though. I roll over and regret that decision as well, my stomach and world spinning. Once I think I'm in the clear of not barfing, I open my eyes, half-hoping to find David there.

But he wasn't.

Holding half my face, I slowly find my way to the stairs. It's painful being awake right now. I'm happy to find I wasn't the only one who had passed out here at Easton's for the night. Matt was still there, asleep on the couch, but Lee was gone.

The smell of cooking bacon made me run for the downstairs bathroom. I couldn't remember the last time I had been this drunk. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I was so hung over after a night of drinking it made me puke. The more I wracked my pain-addled brain, the more I felt like I had never been that drunk in my entire life. Furthermore, as the room spun, I was starting to think I was still drunk.

Regardless, I was never drinking like that ever again.

"Fuck," I say, stumbling into the kitchen, still holding half my face.

Easton turns around and absolutely howls in laughter. "The man of the hour, Tristan Smith!"

I moan, collapsing into a chair at the small kitchenette table off to the side. I put my head down, trying to block out the sunlight that's coming in through the window to my immediate right.

"My man!"

"I think I'm still drunk."

Easton snorts. "Wouldn't surprise me. Had a couple people who were checking on you obsessively last night because they were afraid ya might stop breathing."

"Tell it to me straight, Easton. How much of an ass did I make of myself last night?"

There's a pause, and I can only assume he stopped to look over at me. "Well, you're barefoot and wearing David's hoodie, so."

I open my eyes and look down. Sure enough I'm wearing a grey hoodie that I didn't come here with. Confused, I pull at it and look down at my bare chest.

"You do the hokey pokey last night?" Easton prods.

I roll my eyes and then close them, putting my head back on the table. "God I hate it when you call it that..."

"Well did you or didn't you?"

I thought, trying to sort through the fuzzy, sporadic memories I had from the previous night. "Didn't have a condom, so no."

Easton sounds like he's facing me as he talks. "Bro! Why didn't you say something, I would've hooked you up!"

"Probably wouldn't have worked, anyway," I mumble.

"Why not?"

I lift my head and glare. "Why do you think, Einstein?"

After a moment, it dawns on Easton what I mean, and he's laughing again. "You were so drunk it was like that?"

"It was like that," I sigh, resigning myself to be truthful with the guy I've also known since grade school.

"Damn, Trist. I don't think I've ever been so drunk I got whiskey dick."

Before I can reply, another voice joins us.

"Okay, I did not need to hear that," Matt bemoans, entering the kitchen.

I chose to ignore both of them, peering down at my bare chest again. "Guys, where's my shirt?"

"In the wash with your socks," Easton answers.

I pause. "Why?"

Matt laughs at me and sits down. "You don't remember basically becoming that girl at the end of The Exorcist, puking all over your damn self?"

At that word I gag, and quickly shake my head. Once I don't think I'm going to puke again, I speak. "I think I'm still partially drunk, Matt."

"Damn," Matt says. He walks over to the plate of bacon and steals a piece, which makes Easton slap him with the cooking tongs. Matt laughs and comes back over, sliding into the seat next to me. "So did you bang David?"

"No, remember," Easton answers for me. "You got skeeved out when you first walked in, because Tristan was so drunk he got--"

Matt cuts him off. "Yes yes yes, now I remember, don't say it."

I slam my hands down, more in sheer exhaustion than anger. "Jesus Christ, why is everyone so interested in my sex life this morning?"

"Because it's funny?" Matt and Easton say together, and then crack up.

"Whatever. All y'all just want to live vicariously through me." I shoot them a glare. "When was the last time either of you got any?"

Matt puts his hand to his chest, looking dramatically offended. "Damn, Tristan, you don't have to hurl the truth at us."

I sigh. Easton brings over the plate of bacon, and a separate plate of English muffins I hadn't noticed before, already toasted. He takes the third and final chair as we all dig in.

"I'll have you know my sex life is very good in New York, thank you very much," Easton proclaims, looking proud as he makes himself a breakfast sandwich.

"Does anyone have David's number?" I ask with a groan. "God, I'm so embarrassed. I was such a wreck last night, he probably thinks I'm a loser."

Matt shrugs. "I could always bring it to him at school. That way, it won't be so embarrassing. You two can just forget that you met."

"I wanna apologize."

"Why? Just give me the damn sweater and I'll tell him you're sorry."

I don't want that, though. I wanted an excuse to see him. If he hated my guts, that would be fine. Wouldn't be the first time I slept with someone who I never spoke to again. I mean, this time there was only actual sleeping, but still, same point. 

"I want to apologize to his face," I reply. 

Matt shrugs. "Okay, whatever."

I'm happy when the subject is dropped. They know I come from a pretty traditional family, and owning up to mistakes was drilled into my head from a young age. So me wanting to apologize to David's face didn't raise any suspicion because I'm sure they knew I'd just say, "Because it's the right thing to do." 

Little did they know that I secretly hoped I didn't blow my chances with David, and just needed an excuse to see him again.