Hungover

Mila

When I woke up later on Sunday, the sun was already high in the sky, and it fell right on my face through the curtains I had forgotten to close. I turned around and groaned. My head pounded something fierce, and I felt sick to my stomach.

It was all the alcohol I had consumed with Ben. It was easy to keep drinking, especially if the company was good. The music played all night long, and the more I drank, the better I felt. Now that it was in the light of a new day—or later the same day—I regretted it all. Why did I drink? It made me feel like shit for a lot longer than it had made me feel good, and it was expensive. Although, the latter didn’t count this time because Ben had paid for my drinks.

Which had been very sweet of him. I wondered if he suffered as much as I did today. He’d told me he had to be in great physical condition to be a firefighter and he’d trained for years to keep up his fitness. I had to admit, it made him look fantastic too. Muscular and delicious. But fitne