Collision

constellations & coffee.

I'm free-falling through space and I can't feel my body. I think I might be dead.

Constellations dance across my eyes. I reach out to touch them, but my fingertips connect with something hard. I flatten my palm against the cool surface. After an eternity the stars and the spinning subside. I blink slowly, prising one eye open. A familiar bedroom gradually comes into focus as I roll over onto my back, my shoulder colliding with something hard.

A guttural sound comes from that something, buried deep under the satin mauve bed sheets. Tendrils of black hair cover the pillow and a perfectly manicured hand grasps the pillowcase. I run a hand over my face and up to my forehead, in a pathetic attempt to soothe pressure in my head. My face is wet. I've been drooling. Fantastic.

I try to swallow but my throat is parched. I need water but the thought of moving makes my stomach churn. If Savannah doesn't wake up soon, I'll have no choice but to endure the sweet embrace of death by hangover. I'm still fully clothed with one shoe on and I have no recollection of leaving the club or how we got home. Why do I do this to myself?

"Good morning doll." As if sensing my crisis, Savannah has emerged from her satin cocoon looking like she just stepped off the runway, albeit half-dressed. For as long as I've known her, she's been able to drink most men under the table and wake up the next morning fresh and ready for the day.

"Kill me." I groan, summoning the strength to kick off my heel and bringing the covers back up my shoulders. "I smell like booze and poor choices. I hope you feel like death too!"

A soft laugh escapes her mouth, the remainder of her lipstick from last night is slightly smeared. "I feel fine actually. I'll get you some water and some coffee. Do you want anything to eat?" God, I love her.

"Thank you! I'll pass on the food; I don't think my stomach could cope just yet." She nods, sliding out of the bed, grabbing a t-shirt as she makes her way to the bedroom door.

She soon reappears with two bottles of water tucked under her arm and two steaming cups of coffee. I place my cup on the nightstand and gulp down half a bottle of water. Savannah curls up next to me.

"You'd think by now we would learn that it's never just one drink." I croak. I take a sip of the sweet molten hot goodness that is coffee, not caring that I've burnt my mouth in the process. "Do you remember how we got home last night? Or even what happened once we left the night club?"

"Not a thing." She smirks, "However there's a half-eaten takeaway on the dining table, a hen party sash and an orange traffic cone in the kitchen! It would seem that we had an eventful night."

I narrowly avoid spitting the hot coffee all down myself as I process what she's just said. "What?! I ...How did we even? Oh god!"

"It certainly exceeded my expectations." She quips.

We fall into a comfortable silence, sipping our drinks. I'm starting to feel a little more alive with each sip.

Savannah shifts and scowls, pulling a phone from underneath her. She clicks the screen and hands it over to me, "I believe this is yours."

Sure enough, the photo of myself and brother appears on the home screen along with five text message, seven missed calls and two voicemails. They're all from the same person.

Matt.

I open the messages and scroll through:

Matt:

I've just tried to call you, but you didn't answer. Are you awake?

Matt:

Knock knock sleeping beauty. There's a surprise outside for you.