Page 21 of My Rules

“Oh . . .” I screw up my face. “Ow . . .”

I open one eye and then the other. Wait ... Where am I? My eyes flick around to see I’m in the spare bedroom of my house.

Why did I sleep in here?

I lean up onto my elbows and look around, confused. Wait, what?

I lie back down as I troll my brain for a memory. I was dancing ... then ...

That’s it.

What happened after that? I blink as I try my hardest to remember something.

Boom, boom, boom thumps my head.

Fuck, I need some Advil.

I drag myself out of bed and glance down at my naked body.

I see my jeans crumpled up on the floor and look around for my T-shirt or underwear; both are nowhere to be seen.

Huh?

I struggle to pull on my jeans and stumble down the hall to see that my bedroom door is closed.

Someone’s sleeping in there.

I quietly knock on the door. No answer. I tentatively push it open to see my bed is empty and still made from yesterday.

I screw up my face in question. What?

Hmm ... that doesn’t make sense. Why would I sleep in the spare room if nobody was in my bed?

Weird.

I have no idea what’s going on around here.

I make my way downstairs as I search for a semblance of a memory. How on earth did I get so messed up?

Hazy visions of dancing on Carol’s couch float through my mind.

Wait . . .

I drag my hand down my face. Ugh ... How was I so drunk? I fill a glass of water and go to the medicine cabinet. I pour some Advil into my hand and throw them into my mouth.

I wince as I feel them go all the way down.

Seriously, my headache is so bad. I’m probably having an aneurysm or some shit.

Bzzzzz buzz . . . buzz bzzzzz.

My phone vibrates on the kitchen counter, and the name Henley lights up the screen.

“Hey,” I answer.

“Are you alive?” his croaky voice whispers.

“Barely.” I close my eyes. “But I suspect the end is near.”

---