The Puck Bunny

Thirty-Seven

CARTER

When I woke up the next morning, my brain was the only thing awake. The rest of my body was still sleeping, passed out. I groaned, attempting to open my eyes but quickly snapped them shut when I realised I hadn't closed my curtains last night and the sunshine was beaming through my windows.

"What the fuck" I groaned, pulling my blanket back up over my eyes. My head hurt so bad and I don't remember getting into bed last night. Did I seriously climb the whole way up without breaking a bone? I tried to sit up, but the pain in my head was so much worse that I hit the pillow again in no time.

But now that I'd attempted to sit, everything started swirling around inside me. I wasn't sure if I needed to barf or pee but I needed something to drink because my throat was so dry. I kept my eyes closed and moved somewhat slowly and gingerly down the ladder and onto the floor of my room. The Gatorade I had attempted to drink was open on my desk with less than a mouthful missing, so I brought the bottle to my lips and took more than half of it back. I had to stop myself from barfing it all back up, holding onto my chair for dear life while I struggled to keep it down, and while the room spun around me.

If I thought I had been hungover before, then this had to be death. I can't even believe Luke went to hockey practice the day after he drank all that whiskey, if he even felt half as bad as this. This was bad, so bad. But I definitely had to pee and splash some water or something on my face, so I opened the door and stumbled my way down to the bathroom. As soon as I finished my business, another sensation took over and I knew I was about to puke. I jumped off the toilet and vomited just in time to not miss the bowl. Why was binge drinking so popular if people felt like this after? Another wave of vomit later and I was able to stand up without feeling like the world was on a tilt-a-whirl.

I made it back to my door just as Luke walked out of his room. His eyes widened when he saw me, then a familiar smirk played on his lips.

"Don't"

"Aww, you're not hungover are you Carter? You barely drank anything last night"

I rolled my eyes and let myself into my room as Luke laughed from behind me. I shut the door without locking it, closing the damn curtains and climbing back up into my bed to fall asleep again.

But one thing no one ever tells you about hangovers is that you may be so exhausted to the point of passing out, but you for some reason just can't fall asleep. Every part of my body wanted sleep at that moment. My head, my legs, my eyes, my fucking stomach. And yet, I couldn't seem to cross the threshold into the unconscious, no matter how much my body yearned for it.

Just as I thought I might be on the precipice of sleep, my phone rang. I groaned and pulled it to my face, to figure out who was calling me.

Lexi.

"What" I muttered when I answered. She laughed on the other end.

"Someone doesn't do hungover very well, do they?"

"I'm pretty sure the last drink Fraser made me was straight vodka"

"Did you get back okay?"

"Apparently. Last thing I remember was walking into Centennial. I don't know how I actually got upstairs, into my room and onto my bed" Lexi laughed through the phone, making me groan again.

"How are you so spritely?" I muttered.

"Well, I didn't play three games of beer pong and make Fraser carry me home last night"

"Okay, that's fair. I deserve it. God, I hope he's not dead"

"Maybe dying, but not dead. I went up and checked on him just before"