Burned by the Spotlight

Chapter Two

As I rolled out of an unfamiliar bed, my brain felt like it was inflating and was going to crack my skull open at any second. When I stood up it took a minute for me to realize that the wobbliness and not an earthquake. I groaned as I recognized the familiar aftermath of a night of drinking a little too much. A whiff of coffee permeated through my hangover-laden brain and gave me a spark of hope that this feeling would be over- even if every second felt like a minute. 

Glancing around, I found items of my clothing making a trail. I slipped my clothes back on before while also searching for my phone, which was probably dead by now since it had been at like 20% the last time I'd looked at it last night. The pristine, impersonal condition that everything was in tipped me off that I was in a hotel. The landline on the nightstand was also a big hint as well. Who had corded phones anymore? Especially on the nightstand. Out the window, I could see the very top of the Capitol Building peeking over the rest of the skyline.

Well, at least I was still in D.C. 

Making sure to have most of my clothes (my bra couldn't be found anywhere), I followed the smell of coffee only to have a breathless laugh of disbelief escape from my lungs. 

"Well, shit," I blurted, a little louder than I meant. 

Either I was hallucinating (which wouldn't be completely out of the realm of possibility considering how piercing my hangover was) or Hayes Abernathy, the (very hot) drummer for my brothers' rival band, was standing half-naked in front of me. As if I hadn't done enough to piss my family off in the last couple of years, this was just the cherry on top of a very large sundae. It was too late for me to sneak past him as his head had snapped up when I spoke. Yup, definitely Hayes Abernathy. No one could forget those electric blue eyes- the glowing color that a cloud turns when lightning strikes. No wonder I thought he looked familiar at the bar last night- I'd just been too intoxicated to string my web of memories together.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up," he commented, giving me a half-grin that told me that he definitely thought I was a fan or something. Not that I would turn off the radio if one of his band's songs came on it, but I wasn't exactly putting it on replay either. "I'd ask if you want breakfast, but..."

I felt like I'd maybe gotten two or three hours of sleep and restless ones at that. However, when I looked at the clock, 1:37 stared right back at me. Ugh. I had hoped to have a good day to finally finish Game of Thrones (yes, I know, a couple of years late to the party), but so much for that now. 

"I'll take some of that coffee," I suggested. "If you don't mind." 

To be honest, I wanted to just get out of here, but I was going to be completely nonfunctioning until I got at least 8 ounces of coffee pulsing through my bloodstream. Plus, I needed to find my phone and shoes. Where the hell were my shoes? 

"Be my guest," he agreed. Why was he so intent on making such intense eye contact? 

The coffee was just the right temperature- not too hot, not too cold, the only thing I was missing to be Goldilocks was the gold locks...and the talking bears with a house. 

"Thanks," I muttered, closing my eyes and rubbing my temple as I chugged the coffee straight out of the pot like a frat guy would beer. 

"There's aspirin in the bathroom," he informed me, pointing back toward the bedroom. 

"Sweet." 

Once I had knocked back 3 aspirin, one more aspirin than was recommended (as my mom always told me, 2 doesn't do anything but 4 will kill you), I spotted my shoes in the bathtub. Huh. Interesting place to find them. I've learned not to be surprised by anything that drunk me does. Shoes in the bathtub was by far not the weirdest thing I've done while drunk.