I woke up under my covers. It was warm, and the sun was peeking happily through the white curtains in the window. I rolled over on my back, and stared at the ceiling and tried to remember last night. Instinctively, I quickly rolled over to my right to check for any potential bedmates, but I was alone. I pulled the covers down slightly and noted that I was still wearing my red dress and was also entagled in some sort of courderoy men's jacket.
Xander, he must have brought me home. I tried sitting up, but my head swam back down to the pillows and I groaned, and held my forehead like it was going to fall off. I waited a few moments while I gained back the strength to try sitting up a second time. It was slightly less difficult than the first attempt. I then let my feet slide over the side of the bed, hitting the cold hardwood floors. At least I didn't fall asleep with my shoes on again.
And then I looked down. My shoes were sitting neatly against the wall. I would never do that. Especially when drunk. I usually tossed them somewhere upon entering the apartment. Xander must have put me to bed. I laughed to myself just trying to picture it.
Groggily, I stumbled out of my room, down the hall and into the kitchen where I groped for the coffee maker and proceeded to pour coffee everwhere except the coffee filter.
I'll clean that later I guess, I thought to myself wearily. My cell phone rang, my Ramones ring tone piercing my ear drums and making the swimming feeling return to my head.
"Shut Uuuuuuupppppp," I grumbled at my phone. I couldn't find it anywhere, but I could certainly hear it, but I kept stumbling around looking for it. It stopped ringing, and I returned back to the kitchen to attempt coffee-making once more.Before I could even reach the kitchen, it started ringing again.
"Stupid phone! I'm going to set you on fire!" I yelled, frantically searching for it on my hands and knees. I ravaged the bedsheets, and the phone clamored out from under Xander's jacket. I gave a sigh of relief and jumped for it clumsily. The caller ID showed it was Xander.
Should I answer it or not? I continued debating this until it stopped ringing and I was swept with a wave of debilitating nausea. I covered my mouth and ran for the bathroom.
Moments later I returned, pale-faced and slightly irritated at my lack of control last night. I started to think that the only reason I drank so much was to try and blur the whole Xander situation. I knew my limits, but last night was just too weird.
I picked up my phone to check what time it was and immediately it started to ring all over again.
"Ack!" I shrieked, startled and threw the phone on the bed. I quickly jumped after it, falling on the bed with a loud thud and checked the screen. Xander. Once again. Realizing that he may never stop calling, I answered it.
"City Morgue," I said.
"After last night, I'm sure it is," Xander responed.
"Jesus, Xander what on earth is so important you had to call me three times for?" I groaned laying back on my bed.
"I just wanted to see if you were..." He trailed off, as if he had to think about what he was saying, "Okay."
"Yeah, I'm okay," I said suspiciously, "Are you even hungover at all?"
"I've learned to hold my drinks in my old age," he replied.
"Yeah, because 24 is so old," I snorted.
"Whatever," he sighed. My phone beeped in my ear, call waiting.
"Hey, I gotta go, I have another call," I said.
"But wait I-" He said before I hung up quickly to answer the other call.