Page 28 of Romance Languages

What was I doing in bed with Seamus? I looked down, and I was fully dressed. My shirt and pants were wrinkled from sleep. A disgusting taste permeated my mouth.

I glanced at the clock on his nightstand.

4:54

Fuck. My head pounded with excruciating pain. And I thought beer was bad. The tequila had hardened into a bulldozer knocking a wrecking ball against my skull. My stomach was no better, queasy and empty.

Tequila, thy mortal enemy. Never again.

With all its squeaking, the mattress made it nearly impossible to sneak out of bed unnoticed. I crept to the bathroom, the scene of the crime. Fortunately, Seamus had a large bottle of mouthwash on the counter. I leaned my head back and poured it in without the bottle touching my mouth. It burned as I swirled, but the grossness on my tongue was being sterilized away.

Objectively, I looked like shit. The mirror did not lie. My skin was pale, eyes bloodshot, hair sticking up in loops and swoops.

Gross.

My plan was to sneak out the door, pray his roommates weren’t up, text Seamus a beautifully crafted apology, and then go about transferring schools and leaving the continent as soon as possible.

“Jules?” he called from the bedroom, his voice raspy.

Busted.

Shit.

I did a walk of shame back to his bedroom. It wasn’t the fun walk of shame my friends loved to brag about. This was actual shame.

“Hi.” I waved from the doorway.

“Morning.” He sat up in bed. The Yankees blanket fell, revealing his naked chest and the small tuft of dark hair between his pecs. Now was not the time to lust over his body. Now was the time to put my tail between my legs and get out of there.

“How ya feeling, bud?” he asked with such concern in his voice that it scuttled my plan to run away.

“Not so great.” The sharp pain in my head and stomach, as well as overall weakness in my legs, confirmed this.

“That was epic last night.”

“Epic? Did we…” A sinking feeling added to the overall yuckiness inside me. “Did we have sex?”

I felt like an idiot as soon as the question popped out. Was I that drunk that I didn’t know my virginity had been taken? Seamus snorted a laugh.

“No. You passed out in the bathroom. I was talking about your puking. I’ve never seen someone throw up that much, and I lived in a frathouse for two years.”

Change of plans: run away screaming.

“I thought your stomach was going to get ripped out of your mouth. I’m glad you’re still alive.”

“Me, too.”

“If I were you, I’d stay away from tequila.”

“Agreed.” From now on, I was going to be a mature, responsible adult and only get drunk off wine.

“How did I wind up in…” I pointed to his bed.

“You passed out on the bathroom floor. I couldn’t leave you there, so I carried you in. I figured you needed a good rest.”

Another wave of mortification mixed with nausea hit me. Seamus had to carry me? He had no choice but to put me in his bed. No way could he have lugged me up the stairs. I’d essentially forced myself into bed with him.

“I’m really sorry,” I said.

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