The Brick Wall

Chapter 3

Collins POV

  Monday morning brought along a splitting headache.  If I didn't know any better, even in my hazy state, I'd have guessed that there were at least five people driving nails into each section of my skull.  The throbbing felt like I was surrounded by speakers at a rock concert.

  One hand fumbles around next to me, reaching out for a bottle of water that I'd thought was put next to my bed.  My fingers tapped everywhere looking for the hard wood, only to be met with carpet instead.  Jolting to an upright position was enough to make the room spin, but also just enough to make me realize I was on an old air mattress in the middle of a living room floor, in my new apartment. 

  What I thought was a bottle of water is a random bottle of beer, and the heavy weight I feel in my lap is apparently a random guy.  A lot of things from the previous night feel fuzzy, and when the dude rolls over, I realize he's also fuzzy with an exorbitant amount of chest hair that goes all the way to his back.  

  And he's blonde. I've never gone for a blonde guy in my life. So the big question rattling in my brain, and making my stomach churn a little more.

  What the hell did I do last night?

  As if my gut wants to help me reach the answer quicker than my brain allows, it leaps up to my throat.  I scramble to my feet, hand clenched over my tight lips until I'm bowing down to the porcelain gods.  The smell is putrid, acid burning my throat with each heave. 

Settling back against the tub in order to wait for the next bout I notice I am still fully dressed.  Jeans buttoned with the front of my shirt still tucked in.

  "Oh thank heavens," I mutter, my head falling into my hands. 

  Bits and pieces begin to flood my mind when I'm hanging over the toilet once more. I'd gotten the key to my new apartment in the afternoon.  Finally free to live my own life away from the things and someone who tried to tie me down back in  D.C.  With just an air mattress and a small suitcase to my name, I'd decided to go out and celebrate with a dinner alone. 

  But the closest place in walking distance was an old diner that apparently (which I 'apparently' like that word when I'm drunk or trying to remember events) sold alcohol, and lots of it once the sun set.  That was when I began noticing the clientele of customers change, which also led to me being graced by the blonde guy who I'm still unsure of what his name could possibly be. 

  I don't exactly remember if I actually invited him up to my place? That's not really my thing, never has been. But then I also recall him being attached to my face while I tried to find my way to the apartment door. 

  Damn it. The neighbor.

  Another heave sends me to the toilet. To say I'd made a poor first impression on my new neighbor would be an understatement. I barely got a good look at him, while blondie tried to actually square up with the giant of a man. That was when I realized just how scrawny blondie actually was. 

  And yet it didn't sober me up enough to not pull him along into my home. Or was I just trying to not make a poor impression on the landlord by allowing blood to be shed in the hallway? 

  It's anyone's guess, I suppose. 

  Leaning sideways against the wall, my head pounding in agony, I become mildly startled as the bathroom door bursts open.  I get a good, sober, look at blondie in the day light and question myself even further.  

  It only gets worse when he steps closer to the toilet bowl, a little jerk of his head for me to move. When I don't speak, nor move, he actually kicks at me with his boot.  "This is MY bathroom."

  The reminder did nothing to deter him. "And I've got to take a leak." His drowsy face changes, a smirk forming with ease. "You're welcome to hang around and watch."

  I swallow down vomit at the thought.  "Heavens no," I mumble, scrambling to my feet.  Before I'm even out the door I can hear the heavy stream, my nose scrunching in disgust. 

  I'm giving myself mental pats on the back, semi congratulating my efforts in the fact that I had not slept with the man. Although looking down at my nearly deflated air mattress, I do notice he had rid himself of his shirt at some point, thus the disgusting amount of body hair that sadly looks like it could be an actual sweater.  

   I shudder, the heeby jeebies running back and forth up and down my spine at the thought of hugging on to that at any point during the night.  A shower sounds really good right about now. 

  "Hey, Polly!" the guy calls out from my bathroom as I hear the water run.  

  At least he's washing his hands.

  Although, I have no idea who the hell he's calling Polly.

  "Polly!" he yells again.  By the time he's rounding the corner I'm standing near the apartment door, arms crossed over my chest.  "Did you not hear me?" he chuckles. "Thought we could go get some grub." He stalks closer to me. "Come back here. Finish what we started last night?"

  There's no way I can possibly hide the disdain from my face; acting is not my forte. "Yeah, I think not."

  "Aw, come on now, Polly." 

Who is Polly?

  He reaches his hand out to caress my arm. Without a second thought I'm jerking myself away from him. "Don't be like that." 

  "Your shirt," I point over to foot of my 'bed,' "is over there."

  The man smirks at me, "Yeah, and you're over here."

  I toss my  hand out in front of me, effectively landing in the forest that lives on his chest. "Nope. I think we're done here."  He eyes me down, "I don't think we are." He leans in closer causing me to duck around him, grab up his shirt and shove it into his chest all the while pushing him further to the door.  In another swift  motion, the door is opened and he's tripping over himself on the way out. 

  With a harsh shove against the door, he's sticking his boot up to stop it's closing. "Come on, Polly. You and me, we could have some fun."

  The tension in my body is only building, making my head scream louder than I thought possible.  My shaking hands come up, gripping both sides of my head.  "Take a damn hint!" I yell, instantly regretting the effect it has on my brain. 

  "Can I at least get your number, Polly?"

  That's it. I'm done.

  "Tell ya what  wooly mammoth," I begin, earning me a confused look on his face. "You can have my number just as soon as you get my name right." I toss him a sarcastic wink and shooter fingers as his face falls. 

  All the self confidence he was attempting to exude falls flat pretty quickly as he shrugs his shoulders and mutters an 'Oops.' 

  "That way," I remind him, pointing down the hall towards the elevator. "The exit you're looking for, it's that way."

  Mr. Blondie walks away with his tail tucked between his legs. With an eye roll I'm backing up into my apartment once more when I hear my neighbor's door open.  I start to see a stroller come out of the apartment, making me rush to close my door before we have a second poor interaction. 

  So, the faceless, nameless neighbor wasn't lying. He actually does have a baby. Or maybe it could be a little sister situation. Who knows? All I know is I need to get the feeling of Chewbacca off of my body before I start hacking up some hairballs.

*Unedited

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