Honey and spice

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 3

I feel a warmth and before I know it I'm being dragged from my subconscious. My eyes flutter open and I soon realise the warmth is the sun shining right at me from the open window.

Wait...where am I?

This is not my bed. This is not my room. This is not...well you get the picture.

As soon as I move the pain hits me, much to my surprise. My head hurts like hell, the light hurts my eyes and all my muscles ache. Basically, I feel like I have been hit by a bus.

And then the memories flood into my mind, I was very very drunk last night. I must be hungover.

"Fuck," I mumble as I slide out of bed slowly and painfully while shielding my eyes from the harsh light coming from the window. I rush to close the curtains and finally my sight is restored.

I'm in a room I recognise at least, it's Callie's brother's room. He moved away for college last year so most of his stuff is packed away but I recognise the huge closet and baby blue feature wall from when Callie showed me around her house the first time.

"Just great," I say as the sudden need to vomit overcomes me.

I rush out of the room and basically run for the bathroom. Luckily it's unlocked so I swing it upon...only to reveal Callie making out with some dude on the bathroom counter. The guy only has boxers on while Callie is wearing an oversized striped shirt, her legs spread and around the guy's waist.

"Oh shi-sorry!" I shout as I slam the door shut.

What a great start to the morning.

Instead of waiting around for them to leave the bathroom I run downstairs in search of the nearest place I could throw up.

Fuck fuck fuck.

I head to the kitchen and in a rush I throw up into the bin. Hey, at least it's already cleaned up.

"Nice."

I turn around to find a light haired guy in reading glasses sitting at the small table in the kitchen and reading a book while sipping on some coffee.

"You're the guy from last night?" I ask as I head for the cupboard to get a glass of water. I pour myself some tap water and rinse my mouth from the foul taste of vomit.

"If you mean the guy that saved you, then yes, yes it is," he answers without looking up from his book.

"I'm sorry, what? What do you mean you saved me?" I ask.

He looks up and sighs, putting his book down the wrong side down and sliding his glasses off. "Right, you were too drunk to even comprehend where you were," he says and rolls his eyes.

I cringe at that statement. That's the first thing he knows about me, I bet he's assuming that I do this every weekend.

"That was the first time I got drunk," I clarify.

"Right ok, I'm not judging," he says and laughs, raising his hands up as if he was surrendering.

"So what happened?"

"Well, I was minding my own business chatting to people in the study when this dude asked me to get him a drink. When I was making my way to the kitchen I saw this dark-haired guy carrying you upstairs. You were unconscious from the looks of things so I got worried that he was going to try something...I was right. When I opened the door to the room he took you to I caught him taking your clothes off. He was going to do something to you...something that would change you. So I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him out in the hallway. He tried to fight me but the people that were hanging around the stairs noticed and came to help. He ended up leaving in a rage basically," he says.