Page 58 of A Very No Strings Halloween
…
Billy.
Billy Mothafuckin’ Cocksucka Boston happened.
My brain is smiling, but my face is trying to go back to sleep. Where is that maniac? And how is it possible to be this hungover and so horny at the same time?
“Afternoon, sunshine!”
“Shhhhhhh!”
“Oh, sorry,” he says, but I swear his voice is exactly as loud. “How do you feel?”
He leans over me, and I grab his shirt to pull him down for a kiss. Ten seconds ago, my tongue was so dry I could have used it to sand the back porch rails, but even though I’m barely conscious I am salivating for this man all of a sudden. There’s no telling if the elevated heart rate, body temperature, and blood pressure are hangover related or Billy related, but I knowfor sure that the hangover is a direct result of hanging out with this guy.
“Horrible,” I say when our lips finally part. I’m smiling now, I think. Maybe not with my face, but with my fatigued, dehydrated soul. “Just awful.”
“Sorry to hear that, Red.” He stands up, and I have to close my eyes again because looking up at him is bad. “I had groceries and hangover food delivered. What strikes your fancy, milady?” I can hear him moving around and taking things out of paper bags. “I got all the bottled water you can drink. Ginger ale. Gatorade. Coconut water. Saltine crackers. Greasy fast-food burgers, because I have personally found that this helps best with hangovers. You need protein and fat to digest the sugar from the alcohol.”
“That is not how alcohol metabolism works.”
“Trust me. It is. I also got Tylenol, Advil, Tums, Alka Seltzer, Pepto Bismol, Bloody Mary ingredients, mimosa ingredients, Guinness… I got coffee, tea…”
“You drank even more than I did. How are you not hungover?”
“Oh, I am, but y’know. I get knocked down, I get up again. It takes a lot to really knock me down, though.”
“Oh my God.” I try to laugh, but it comes out like a yawn and then a groan. “Ow. You’re a maniac.”
“You’re kind of a maniac yourself, Red. You really kept up with us. We were all impressed.”
I snort. “Please. I believe it was the three of you who had to keep up with me.” I don’t actually remember what they had to keep up with, but it feels like the right thing to say. I try to arch an eyebrow with my eyes closed, but I don’t think my face is moving. “Did my eyebrow go up?”
“Nope. Did you want it to?”
“Yeah. Where are your cousins? Are they okay?”
“Yeah, those cocksuckas made it home just fine.”
“They’re back in New York already?”
“Yeah, we dropped ’em off at the airport before we came here, remember?”
“No.”
“Maddie and Cora both sent me pictures of them sleeping in their respective bathtubs.”
“Aw, that’s nice.”
“So, you, uh…” He massages my thigh. “You weren’t spooked?”
“By what?” I hear buzzing in my head. Or near it.
“By me.”
I snort. “Why would I be spooked?”
“Well, some people find the full Billy Boston experience a little extreme.”
