NATE
STASSIE: You awake?
NATE: Hey, drunk girl. Yeah, just woke up.
STASSIE: I think I’m dying.
NATE: A bottle of tequila will do that to a person.
STASSIE: Why am I in bed with Brin and Robbie?
NATE: I tried to put you in our bed but you said I was trying to come between you and Sabrina.
NATE: You guys wanted to snuggle.
STASSIE: Even thinking about moving is making me nearly vomit.
STASSIE: I have thought motion sickness.
STASSIE: Watching the words on my screen is making me feel sick.
Help me.
NATE: Want me to carry you up the stairs?
NATE: You’re not allowed to be sick though.
STASSIE: Can you carry me really softly? Is that a thing?
STASSIE: I can taste sound rn I’m very delicate.
NATE: Omw to carry you really softly.
Heavy footsteps sound on the stairs after I hear his bedroom door slam, and yet, I still can’t motivate my body to move. The door lock beeps as he enters the four-digit code, and he strolls in, looking effortlessly beautiful in his boxers. I want to watch him, admire him, but the more he moves, the worse I feel, so I scrunch my eyes shut.
“I’ll try not to be offended at your grimace.”
“You’re a work of art, bub, truly you are. Absolute ten out of ten sex god. But watching you move that quickly is making me wanna hurl,” I mumble through tight lips.
“Ten out of ten sex god? I think someone might still be a little drunk.” His strong arms scoop under my body, pulling me to his chest in one effortless movement.
“Oh my God, stop moving.” I moan through the palm of my hand glued to my mouth. “How can I be drunkandhungover?”
“You’ll feel better after some Tylenol and a shower. I take it you don’t wanna work out with me this morning?”
When I glare up at his outrageously pretty face, he’s trying not to laugh, which is wise, because the motion of his laughter might make me throw up on his chest.
He walks us slowly to the kitchen, sitting me on the counter gently. “You smell like McDonald’s and regret.” He reaches into the drawer and produces a bottle of painkillers.
“Did I eat McDonald’s last night? Or do I naturally smell like a Big Mac?”
He brushes my tangled hair from my face and looks at me so lovingly that, for a second, I forget that I am an actual dumpster gremlin right now. “You ate twenty chicken nuggets in about four minutes. It was like you were in an eating competition, but you were the only contestant. I’ve never been more in love with you.” He hands me a glass of water and puts two pills in my palm. “Do you not remember getting home? Russ picked you guys up because he was sober. You forced him to take you for food.”
“I like Russ.”
Nate chuckles to himself and rubs his hands up the front of my bare legs while I throw back the pills. “I know you do, you said it quite a lot. You called him muffin in front of everyone. Can you guess what all the guys are calling him now?”
Oh no. Poor muffin.“Uh-oh.”