Stuck In Savannah

4. One Shot, Two Shots...

Chapter 4: One shot turned into two shots...

One shot turned into two shots. Two shots turned into three shots. Three shots-

Okay, you get the picture. Bottom line was that I probably shouldn’t have been allowed to drink. Technically, I wasn’t, but no one physically stopped me from drinking.

Big mistake.

And as I looked around, taking in the state of Connor’s house, I wished someone had stopped all these crazy, hormone-driven teenagers from trashing it last night, but obviously, no one had gotten the memo.

There were sleeping kids everywhere – lying around the ground, slouching on the sofas, one was even sleeping under the pool table, but there was no sight of Connor himself.

It was a good thing he hadn’t seen his house in its current state yet. I figured he hadn’t, otherwise I’d probably be dead now because I’d totally ignored his no party rule and went ahead and threw one anyways, blindfolding him about it all.

What the hell happened last night anyways?

One thing was for sure, the house was a mess and I didn’t even know to begin to fix this. For a moment there, I entertained the idea of tracking down my heels, putting them on, and powerwalking (because running from the crime scene was too obvious) it out of here before Connor had the chance to bite my head off, but I decided to be valiant about this and face the consequences. Or in the other words, the punishment.

I did eventually find Hannah though, cozying up to some guy. She was asleep, her previously carefully coiffed dirty blond hair looked like a bird’s nest in the morning light, she had a bit of drool on her cheek, her red lipstick was smeared, and her mascara was running. Not to mention, she was shoeless for some reason. I shook my head at the familiarity of it all before I shook her awake.

“Wake up, Han,” I whispered, and then shook her more violently once she refused to open her eyes.

Her eyes fluttered open reluctantly before she focused her blurry gaze on me, but it took her quite some time to recognize my face. She frowned as I beckoned for her to get up and she then untangled herself from the guy that was sleeping next to her on the couch.

“What the hell happened?” she asked groggily, sitting up and frowning down at him, as if she couldn’t recognize him either.

“You tell me,” I said, shrugging as we both glanced around, stifling a groan. “You find the garbage bags, I’m going to find Connor,” I told her before I went off in search of the guy in question. My head was pounding, as if someone was drilling nails into my skull, but I knew that the best way to deal with a hangover was by ignoring it, so I promptly did just that.

I went upstairs where Connor’s room was and on my way there, I ran into a girl that was sneaking out of it. Her back was facing me, but when she turned around, trying to make her escape, she froze upon noticing me standing in the hallway just a couple of feet away. Her eyes grew wide, like a deer caught into headlights, but then she recovered, shrugged it off, flashed me an awkward and embarrassed smile and started walking again, adjusting her shirt on her way out.

I returned her smile, shook my head and then barged into Connor’s room without knocking.

He was awake, already up and about, in the process of buttoning up his shirt. His hair was dripping wet, as if he’d even taken a shower already whereas I personally looked like the term ‘hot mess’ was invented just for me.

He looked up when he heard me entering and I was amazed to see that he didn’t even look like he was suffering from a massive hangover (like the rest of us) at all.