Julian

II. February, Ch. 19

     Genevieve's seductive voice rang in Calvin's left ear. "Wake up, Tang."

     He winced, keeping his eyes closed. His sensitive eardrums and barely-awake brain couldn't tolerate loud noises.

     She ran the tips of her fingers through his scalp.

     The soothing feeling made him moan. Her fruity, delicious scent played with the hairs inside his nose. She smelled so good, he wanted to have her for breakfast.

     Aroused as he was this early in the morning, a vengeful hangover wouldn't let him enjoy himself.

     His head pounded. His mouth was too dry to let him swallow. His muscles felt as though he was crammed in a tiny box, or was up all night engaging in some intense physical activity.

     He tried to remember what happened the previous night, before he blacked out.

     All he remembered was dancing with Genevieve, drinking with her, and meeting her friends. It must have been a dream, but what would explain the headache?

     And Genevieve? What would explain her presence? He opened his eyes in alarm.

     Genevieve's bright face was only inches from his. She giggled, almost tenderly, and moved her fingers to the back of his ear.

     Did we...?

     He sat up and looked around, but his aching brain wasn't prepared for the sudden movement. It attempted to burst out of his skull by pressing against it.

     Calvin grabbed his head to keep it in place, scrunching his eyes shut in pain.

     Genevieve giggled again, not so tenderly this time.

     After a moment, he opened his eyes and scrutinized his surroundings.

     It took him a minute, but he eventually recognized her living room. Sunday morning sunlight pierced through the raindrop-coated windows.

     His lanky body was on the couch, covered by a blanket. Genevieve was on her knees next to him.

     He touched his chest and felt his shirt, but not his jacket. He checked under the blanket like a doctor and found he was in his slacks, belt, and socks.

     Genevieve, too, was fully-clothed. She looked like she had been up a while. "Relax, Romeo. Nothing happened."

     Calvin wasn't sure if he was disappointed, embarrassed that she read his mind, or disgusted at the Shakespeare reference.

     She brought her eyebrows together and slapped his bicep, hard.

     He rubbed the spot she hit. "Ouch. What was that for?"

     "For nearly getting us killed last night."

     "What are you talking about?"

     "Do you have any idea how we got home?"

     His brain demanded attention and he winced to control the pain. "I got us a cab."

     "That wasn't a cab, you moron, that was a scam."

     He shut his eyes. "Not so loud, please."

     "The guy we rode with wasn't a licensed cabbie. San Kolbe is infamous for those. They wait outside of bars and clubs and go fishing for drunks."

     His neutrons struggled to recreate the memory. "He didn't hurt us."

     "Because I was with you. They isolate drunk men, snatch up their valuables, and dump them in the middle of nowhere."