DEAR HARRY, | H.S.

Thirty-Three

Jamie

"Ow..." I cringed turning over in my bed. My head was pounding. How much had I drank last night?

"Christ..." I sat up, saliva welling up in my mouth could only mean one thing was coming.

The events of the night before played in my head...

"Why don't we go out?" Sally asked.

I could still feel the music from the club pumping in my brain, making my headache even worse.

I shook my head and made my way to the small kitchen. Hoping some water would wash the nausea out of my system.

I cringed when I saw what I was wearing in the full length mirror in the living area. I had knee high black socks on with a tight black skirt. I wore a crop top that would probably fit a toddler.

Jamie, you idiot. I thought to myself. What was I expecting when I went out last night?

I vaguely remember pre-gaming with Sally and a bottle of wine. The whole bottle. I mean a bottle each. Crap crap crap crap.

Beer bottles littered my counters.

Did I have an after party...or what?

I grabbed a glass in the sink and filled it with cold water. The second it ran down my throat, I felt the bile rising with it. I covered my mouth and ran to the bathroom.

Swinging the door open and I crashed over the toilet.

My throat was raw, my stomach was twisted.

Did I drink rum last night?

I finally caught my breath and sat back on the cold floor.

"Are you alright?" a voice startled me. I turned to my bathtub.

Standing up quickly I pushed myself back towards the door.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I said quickly.

"Baby, you invited me."

It was Jake.

Jake was in my bathroom.

In my bathtub?

"What are you doing in the bathtub?" I asked confused.

"You said I couldn't sleep in the living room and uh there's not much room anywhere else in this tiny ass apartment of yours. I hate that couch." He snuffed and turned his head back into the pillow he stole from my bed.

"Get out." I said pointing toward the door.

"Were you that lit last night? Damn, Jamie. Do you remember anything?" He asked.

I cringed.

Oh god.

No I didn't.

I hardly remembered anything. I somehow was drunk enough to invite Jake into my apartment.

"Where did all the beer bottles come from?" I asked him.

I was trying to stay calm. This was my doing. I invited him, drunk or not. This was strictly my fault.

"We threw a party after bar close. You were crazy. You danced on your countertop." He said, looking me over from top to bottom. My eyes grew wide.

"Jake, you hate it when I'm drunk. You hate drinking." I walked out of the room, hoping he'd follow and get the hell out of my bathtub.