The Hangover

6:00 AM, 6th of August.

The bright sun hit my eyes, making me squint to adjust my sight. When I realized that I was in an unfamiliar place, I sat up straight then a sharp pain went across my head. I rubbed my forehead in the hopes that the headache will go away.

"Urgh," I groaned, feeling the pain in my empty stomach and the bad headache.

I heard plates and utensils being set outside of the room.

"Where am I?" I mumbled to myself while scanning the room that I am in.

The room is not that small. It looks neat and spacious because there are only a few things on it. On my right is one tall window with gray curtains on the side, a leather couch to sit on, and a light lamp beside it. The bed is soft thanks to its velvet blanket, which drapes over the floor. It's low since there's only one mattress, but perfect enough to sit on and work on a small desktop placed on his left side. I see no pictures in the room, only this artistically painted brick wall on the bed's head side, which I can see from the big mirror facing me.

I stood up and examined myself, realizing that I am not on the clothes I wore from the party. I was wearing a white oversized polo shirt and only my undies?

I started panicking, thinking where the hell I am. I cannot seem to identify my abductor. As much as I try to remember what happened last night, everything was a blur, not to mention the sharp pain in my head keeps on pulsing.

I went over to the bookshelf that acted as a barrier between the bed and the door. I see different genres of books, from academic textbooks to self-help books. I cannot see anything that would help me identify whose apartment this is. Then I heard mumbles outside the room.

"Is she awake already? I'm sure she's experiencing one bad headache. She was vomiting all over you last night," an old woman said out of concern.

"I'm not sure. I haven't checked up on her," a man said.

That voice!

His voice is familiar!

No way… Don't tell me this is...

Suddenly, the door flew open, revealing my abductor's identity. It was Nathaniel Cooper! To my surprise, plus the headache, I am terribly feeling, I blacked out once again.

1:30 PM, 6th of August.

I woke up with a wet towel on my forehead. I could taste bitter on my tongue. I really don't feel so good. Then I realized what happened earlier.

"Oh shit!" I gasped while sitting up straight from the bed.

"Good morning to you too, sleepyhead," Nate said, not minding to look at me because he was busy reading a book by the couch.

"What did you do to me? Where are my clothes?" I demanded, pulling the blanket closer to my chest.

"No need to be shy, my Queen. I've seen it," he said mischievously while walking towards me and sitting by my side. He held out his hand to place it on my forehead.

"Good. Your temperature seems to be going down. You should eat. I'll reheat the food we've prepared you this morning," he said, getting up to the door.

"Hey, answer me!" I shouted, annoyed for ignoring my question, and what does he mean that he has seen it all? Was he the one who undressed me?

Nate didn't answer and left me disconcerted. Another sharp pain came across with a blurry memory I remembered from last night. I was dancing on the dance floor, but I can't seem to recollect anymore after that.

I followed Nate out and was still demanding an answer from him, but he played deaf while reheating the food.

"Sit down," he said. I didn't listen. "I said, sit down. If you want answers, obey me," he commanded while looking straight into my eyes. Here I am, looking like a puppy being scolded by its owner then following his commands.

"Eat," he said.

"I don't want to--" he stopped me mid-sentence when he dropped a bowl of soup in front of me. "Eat," he said again. I obeyed.

I took a spoonful of the soup and blew for it for a few seconds, then tasted it. My eyes widened because of how the soup tasted so good. The bitterness on my tongue washed away, and all I could taste was the flavor of the soup.

"Did you--"

"I helped prepare it, but it wasn't me who cooked it," he said, cutting me once again. I pouted for a bit showing a sign of disappointment.

I started eating more, grabbing a spoonful of each food placed on the table. Nate was just watching me and telling me to slow down or I might choke, which I did. I coughed hard, and he gave me a glass of water.

"I said, slow down. You really don't like listening to anyone except yourself, do you?" he mumbled. He clearly is annoyed by the times I kept on disobeying him. I chugged the entire glass of water and pushed down the food to my stomach.

"So, now that I have eaten and obeyed you. Answer my questions: How the heck did I get here? What happened last night? And did you undress me? Did something happen between us?" I asked, bombarding him with all the questions I needed answers to.

"First, I saw you wasted on the bathroom floor. It was already 1:30 AM. Second, you were partying too much that you got wasted. Third, nope. I did not undress you. It was my aunt. Lastly, there was nothing that happened between us," he answered, staring straight into my eyes.

I squinted because another sharp pain went across. I did remember that I was on the floor wasted and that he was trying to carry me out, but I suddenly vomited on him.

I gasped with the memory I remembered. "Did I just vomit on you?" I was embarrassed by the question I was asking.

"You did. A couple of times," he answered.

I cannot see any hint of dishonesty in his answers. So, there's nothing to doubt about. He stood up and started clearing the plates and washing them. I keep trying to remember what happened last night, but I can only feel pain from trying to.

"Do you remember anything else?" he asked without looking at me.

"No. Should I remember anything more than that?" I curiously asked. It seems like there's more to the story.

"No. Nada," he answered. I somehow heard a sigh of relief from him but didn't bother to clarify it when I saw the time.

"Shit!" I cursed under my breath. "I'm late for my first day of work! Where are my clothes?" I asked Nate, but he looked confused.

"I thought your shifts are only MWFs? You're also working on weekends?" he asked. I nodded and demanded where my clothes were.

"You can't go to work with those clothes. You'll look like a whore, and besides, you can't go to your work with a hangover. Go to my room, and just sleep. Leave your manager's number by the table. I'll call him. You take medicine too that I've put on the bedside table," he said.

"But--"

"No, buts. Just listen to me. You'll thank me later," he assured me. I realized that he's right. Even if I go to work now, I'll just make a fool out of myself.

I followed his instructions. I took the pen and paper at the kitchen counter, wrote the number of my manager, and then went back to his room. I scanned his room again. His room smells like wood and brick. It's refreshing.

I went to the bathroom to look at my face for the first time of the day. My hair is a mess. My face looks tired. Surprisingly, my makeup is gone. I think Nate and his aunt took the liberty to wipe it off before I went to sleep.

"Hey, Nate, do you have any other toothbrush I could use?" I said, shouting at the top of my lungs for him to hear me from the bathroom.

"Just use mine. I'll just buy a new one," he answered.

I grabbed his brush and shrugged the fact that I am using another person's intimate object. Sounds disgusting, but I really need to brush. Despite eating the sumptuous meal, I could still taste the aftertaste of mixed drinks.

After brushing, I went back to his room and followed his second order, taking medicine from the side table. I saw a note he left saying, "For your hangover, your highness. Drink it up and take a rest." I chuckled after reading it. Nate can be sweet or mischievous.

I swallowed the pills and tucked myself back in bed, closed my eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.

8:00 PM, 6th of August

I opened my eyes to see it was already night time. I saw Nate by the couch again, still reading the book he read earlier. It was only the moonlight that became the source of light for the entire room. It filled the room with a relaxing atmosphere.

I stared at him, not making another sound. I didn't want to disturb him but rather observe him. I can only see one side, but it was perfect. His face was mesmerizing. He has long eyelashes that compliment his golden eyes. His nose was perfect, and his jawline too. His cherry lips were luscious when you stared at it, making you want to kiss him. His skin tone became as white as snow as the moon shone on it naturally. His arm was strong, and his hand had a good grip on the book. Then I realized something.

Nate looked over his shoulder to check up on me. He put down his book on the couch he was sitting on and came over, then sat beside me. He rechecked my temperature by placing the back of his hand on my forehead.

"You look well, and your fever's gone. That's a good thing," he said. I only stared at him, and my eyes scanned his face down to his lips. His lips. It's vaguely familiar.

"How are you feeling?" he continued.

"I-I feel a bit better," I stuttered. He nods his head, agreeing to my answer.

He stood up, but my hand moved on its own and grabbed his wrist to forcefully let him stay. He was stunned by my behavior. He stared at my eyes with a confused look.

Those eyes. I remember those golden eyes staring at me so deeply last night and how it closed when the lust and heat came over us. Our faces and bodies were close. The tension was building up in the air, and not one of us was talking. We could only hear the cars honking at a distance and the heavy breathing between us.

I've loosened the grip on his wrist and traced the side of his face. He closed his eyes as he felt my fingers on his skin. I stopped by his lips, rubbing it with my thumb, trying to remember the feeling I indeed had last night.

"Did we--" But before I could even finish my sentence, I felt his arm wrapped around my hip, pulling me closer to him and his lips on mine. Now, I remember the feeling. We were into it deep last night.

Despite the cold night, all we could feel was the heat rising up in our bodies. I tried pushing him back, but the sensation was so familiar that I yearn for his touch and this feeling. I kissed back, and he laid me on the bed slowly. I could smell the fragrance of his hair. His skin was soft, and so was his lips. My mind is going blank. My entire body felt weak. He bit my lower lip, causing me to let out a moan.

Why am I letting a man like him consume me?

How did I become so defenseless around him?

What is it with him that I am like this?