A Five-Minute Life

“My phone is gone,” I said.

“What?” she shouted. “I can’t hear you.”

“My phone…”

She kissed me hard. Sloppily. “I want to go now. Be alone with you.”

“But my phone…”

She pressed her body to me, her breasts pushing out of her tank top. Her lips brushed my ear. “I need you to fuck me, Jimmy. Take me back to the hotel and fuck me hard.”

“Sounds good,” I mumbled. “Let’s do that.”

We stumbled into the street and into a cab. In the backseat, Thea was all over me. Wet kisses and groping hands that stroked my erection through my jeans. My ears were ringing after the loud of the club. I tried to kiss her back, but my hands kept sliding off her. At the hotel, I passed the driver some money and we pulled ourselves together to stagger past the front desk. In the elevator, Thea reached for me again, almost desperately. I could hardly stand.

Jesus, how much did I drink?

In our room, I made it to the bed and fell on my back. The room spun.

“I need you, Jimmy,” Thea whispered, stretched out beside me, pleading. “I need you so bad.”

“Wait…” I said, throwing my arm over my eyes. “I just need a minute. Fuck, I’m so wasted.”

“Me too,” Thea said, but her voice came from far away. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Yeah…” I said, and then the bed sucked me down, into oblivion.

When I opened my eyes again, the room was dark. No lights. My ears felt stuffed with cotton and my body weighed a thousand pounds. I reached my hand out, found empty bed. A soft sound near the window, like crying…

I got too drunk. I’m still too drunk.

I slipped back under.

When I came around again, the sun was slanting over my eyes, lancing straight into my brain. I lay on the bed in the exact same position I’d been last night. Completely clothed, down to my boots and jacket.

I muttered the morning-after declaration made by every single hungover person everywhere. “I am never drinking again.”

The room was quiet. Empty. Thea was nowhere in sight. I sat up—too quickly—and nearly puked. Pain gripped my head in a vise.

“Thea?”

The bathroom door was wide open, as if bragging about how there was no Thea in it.

“Oh fuck.”

My heart slammed against my chest, and then I did have to puke. I just made it to the bathroom, my head pounding with the strain of heaving, but I needed to sober the hell up and find her.

Jesus Christ, what happened last night?

My memory coughed up a mish-mash of scenes from the club—Thea dancing, shouted conversations, noise and light and too much damn alcohol.

How long have I been passed out on the goddamn bed? How long has she been out there, alone? God knows what happened to her…

The possibilities made me want to puke all over again.

You broke your promise. You promised to keep her safe. It’s inked on her goddamn skin, and for what?

“N-N-Nothing.”