Page 1 of Sail Away with Me

sail

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Sail Carter groaned and rolled over to push his face into his pillow. The motion had his stomach performing a ten out of ten gymnastics routine. He sat up quickly, regretting it instantly when he felt his temples threaten to explode and his forehead pound so hard he thought someone was stepping on his head.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he hung his head below his knees. Blindly, he reached for the small garbage can he kept next to his bed. He opened one eye and peered at it, making sure it was in the right location before he heaved the liquid contents of his stomach into it. When nothing came, he stood gingerly, testing his weight on the balls of his heels before traversing the mess on his bedroom floor.

His hand touched the knob of his door, twisting the metal until the latch released. Sail pulled his door open, hard. Much harder than he needed and smacked the corner of the door into his bare toe. He cursed again and leaned into the wall for support as he made his way down the hall to the bathroom.

Sail slumped against the door for support. He thought about knocking, but the idea left his brain as fast as it had entered. Hetwisted the doorknob, fell into the bathroom, and collapsed in a heap on the cold tile, and likely dirty, floor.

The cold felt good though, and the idea of moving made him queasy. Sail either needed to puke the alcohol up or find food. A plate of greasy hash browns would do the trick, along with a strong cup of black coffee.

Sail stared at the toilet, the walls, and then shook his head. He was a mess, and the new school year had just started. He hadn’t gone back to Seaport over the summer, opting to stay in Miami and party.

The three Bs of the summer had been everything he’d hoped for: beaches, babes, and boats. The fourth b—booze—was an added luxury as far as he was concerned. He and his friends had spent every day lounging on a friend's yacht, either docked or out in the water, just beyond the reach of the average swimmer. Besides, there were sharks in the water there, and it was never safe for someone to swim that far out. When the month of August reared its ugly head, everyone agreed they’d slow down.

They hadn’t.

The partying increased, especially when the freshman arrived.

Sail’s hand combed over the tile floor in search of his phone. He was certain he had a class to get to, but when he tried to remember which one, his mind was fuzzy. Hell, he couldn’t even recall what day of the week it was and for all he knew, it was Saturday, and he could go back to bed.

A fist pounded on the door. “Hurry up, man. I gotta shit,” the voice on the other side said.

“I’m in the shower. Go downstairs.” The throbbing intensified. He held his head in his hands and groaned. A shower would help wake him up, then he’d get some coffee, and head to class.

Sail turned, leaned over the tub, and turned the water on. While it ran, he splashed his face with the cool water and then slapped his cheek twice to get himself moving. When another fist pounded on the door, Sail hauled his ass up.

At least to sit on the edge of the tub.

“I’m naked.” He warned whichever of his fraternity brothers was at the door. Thankfully, they didn’t knock again, which gave Sail a bit of a reprieve. He stood, looked at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror, and wondered just how fucked up he got last night. The last thing he remembered was doing a keg stand and someone betting him a hundred dollars. For what? He had no clue and also had no idea if he won or lost.

He undressed and stepped into the shower. The water felt good and did its job to wake him up a bit. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind he’d struggle through the day though. Sail stood under the water for a long time contemplating life. His head hurt, his stomach was sour, and he had zero desire to do anything.

After washing his hair and body, he felt slightly better. He could at least face the day and its challenges without giving up right away. Sail rinsed off the soap, got out and dried off. He picked his clothes up off the floor without falling over, which was a win in his book this morning. When he opened the bathroom door, he expected to find a line of men holding themselves and doing the potty dance, but the hall was empty.

Back in his room, he surveyed the mess on the floor. He had only moved back in a couple of weeks ago and already the mess was out of control. Among the pile of dirty clothes were his books, takeout cartons, and beer cans. He picked up a shirt, scrunched his nose, and let it drop from his hand. Thankfully, Sail found a clean pair of boxers—at least he hoped they were clean—a pair of shorts and a shirt that looked and smelled okay.

Sail rubbed his towel over his wet hair, shook it briefly until his head started hurting again, and called it good. As he lookedat the books on the floor, he had no clue which ones he’d need for class today and opted to “forget” them. He rummaged around his room, found his backpack, which had his schedule in there, and swore under his breath. According to the time, he had ten minutes to get his ass across campus.

He came to the end of the hallway and shook his head. There was a guy, asleep or still passed out, on the stairs leading to the third floor. When he looked down the staircase, he saw bodies strategically placed on the stairs, allowing for people to zig and zag their way up and down. Sail was about to yell at everyone to wake up, but he couldn’t muster the strength. One of his other brothers would do it later.

Sail sidestepped another group of undergrads and walked toward the living room to see which of his brothers was awake and watching TV. Another group of co-eds were asleep on the floor. The television was on, but no one seemed to be watching. He grimaced at the odor emanating from one guy on the floor and saw a brown stain on the kid’s backside.

“Jesus,” he muttered as he pressed his nostrils closed. Sail looked around at the bodies, trying to see if he recognized any of them. None of their faces rang a bell and none looked like they lived in the house with him.

He recognized one freshman from rush week and nudged him with his toe. “Get up,” Sail said a few times before the kid began moving. “Get these people out of the house.”

“Yes, sir,” the teen mumbled as he sat up. Sail thought the kid would make a great zombie for their annual Halloween party.

Sail stood there and surveyed the damage to the living room. This had been their third or fourth party—he couldn’t remember—and someone or a bunch of someones had already trashed the walls. Last spring, he and his brothers had spent the week deep cleaning the house before moving out so the school wouldn’t get pissed at them.

He walked by the staircase again. The white ornate railing was dirty, along with the wooden planks leading to the second and third floor. The best thing they had done to this house was to remove all the carpet. Hardwood was easier to clean.

Sail shook his head. He nudged the guy closest to him and repeated the same thing he’d said to the zombie in the other room.

“Why me?” the kid grumbled.

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