Why is there snoring? There’s a low rumbling snore to the left of me. The warmth from the lump next to me also grabs my attention enough to turn my head. Moonlight peeks through the vertical blinds. My head is throbbing as everything has that slow drag. I must have been drinking. As things slowly come into focus, I’m hoping this is just a nightmare. Nausea overtakes me, and I roll off the bed. The pain of the impact on my knees and wrists as they hit the floor clues me in that this is real. No time to think. I see a doorway, I crawl through it on my hands and knees. I hope it’s the bathroom. I navigate through dirty laundry strewn over the floor, realizing that I’m nowhere that is familiar to me. As I grope my way through the dimly lit bathroom, I reach the porcelain pot and wretch my insides into it. My hair slides down the side of my face as I steady myself placing my hands on the cold rim. I’m convulsing again as I hear footsteps behind me, and then a pair of hands grabbing my hair holding it out of the bowl.

“Ugh!” The voice behind me is familiar, but I’m too hungover to recognize it. My heart is racing and can’t or won’t open my eyes. I’m just thankful that someone is holding my hair out of the toilet. I hear the flush. “Yup! No more drinks for the party girl!”

It’s only then I realize I’m only wearing my bra and panty. “Was it worth it?” The voice from the darkness mocks me. I back away from the bowl; the rim is sticky. The hand releases my hair as I lean back. “I’m not sure. Where are we?”

The voice answers, “my place, you were in no shape to go anywhere else.” Everything is spinning, though, it’s starting to slow. The lights in the bathroom flick on. My eyes close on their own as the light triggers a throbbing in my head. The intensity of it begins to wane as my eyes adjust to the light. The blurred figure of a man that towers over me becomes more distinct. “David?” my one-time roommate stands there smiling at me. “What were you thinking going out to the bar alone, like that?” His admonishment rings of concern.

“I had to.”

“That’s not an answer. Look, you don’t owe me an answer, but I think you owe me thanks.” he pauses, shakes his head and begins to chuckle, “Oh and if I knew you could look like that, I might not-‘ve moved.”

David was a ladies man, though I do know he wasn't one to take advantage of one. I lean backward resting my head against the wall. “Where are my clothes?”

“Your dress is on the floor in the living room.”

“You took off my clothes?”

“You took off your clothes. I was getting a blanket and a pillow from the closet for you when disappeared into my bedroom. You’re lucky I recognized your tattoo. You were a mess.”

“We slept together?”

“I was going sleep on the couch and let you have the bed, but you wouldn’t stop whining about not wanting to be alone, I got into bed, and you finally fell asleep.”

He grabs a robe from the door hook and covers me with it. “Whatever you are going through right now, it’s definitely more than I can handle. Though, I'm in a bit of a shock; to be honest. I mean, given how you reacted to Ally, years ago.”

I cringed. Back then I was deeply in denial. “I’m… I’m sorry…” The smell of coffee begins to fill the air. David loved coffee in the morning. I just never developed a taste for it. “Is that coffee?”

“Yup! like some?”

“I can’t be 5:00 am already; is it?” He always had his coffee pot set to brew at 5:00 am.

“It’s 5:30 am, and you still haven’t answered a single question.”

I close my eyes and pull the robe closer into me. “Sure, just let me get cleaned up first.”

David laughs, “One coffee, coming right up! How do you take it?”

The cackle sends pain through my head. “I don’t know, how ever it comes.” I pull my knees towards my chest and try to drive the pain away.

David’s feet slap the tile floor as he walks out of the bathroom. A few minutes later a warm mug is pressed against my bare shoulder right next to my tattoo, a black clover leaf, a joke, I was to be the ‘king of clubs.' The thought of the image now makes me cringe. David was there when I got it, in fact, it was his idea. The tattoo was a bit of a reminder to the old me, to have the confidence David exudes. I needed to be the ‘king of clubs’; the clover leaf was all the pain I could handle before running out the door. Now, I’m grateful that the rest of the image was not there.

Instinctively, I grab for the coffee and place the rim towards my lips. It’s bitter and sweet, I can taste the milk in it. It warms me from the inside, and I smile behind the mug.

“Wow, I thought you hated coffee.” A grin… He must have caught me smiling. Was it the coffee I was smiling about or that he took the time to make it for me?

My eyes open to see what is inside the mug. A latte, his skills as a coffeehouse barista must be well polished by now. My eyes are drawn to the unmistakable lipstick imprint on the rim draws a memory from last night. The wine glass with the same lip print pattern, the stranger who offered to buy me a drink. He definitely wasn’t David. I don’t even recall David there at all.

“Hey, you still with me?”

I’m shaken from my reverie. I rest my head back on the wall behind me. “Yeah, just a flashback from last night. I think I had wine.”

“As I recall, you only had half a glass. So, do you mind telling me how my old roommate end up as the hottest chick in the bar?”

I smile as he takes the mug from my hand and places it on the bathroom counter. His hand reaches out to pull me to my feet. I’m up, but dizzy, as I fall into his arms. David steadies me as I place my hand on the wall for support. He collects the robe from the floor and set it on my shoulders. My hands find their way through the arm holes, and he wraps it tight around me. I draw my cinnamon hair out from the inside of the robe letting it settle on my back and shoulders. It must have been the coffee, but I can now smell cologne, his cologne on the robe. I can’t help but smile more as he leads me down the hall. The robe drags behind me like a train. He’s about a foot taller than my 5’2” frame. I’m absolutely enveloped by his robe. He leads me by my hand to country style table in the small dining room. “Don’t you have to get to the coffeehouse?”

He chuckles, “Nope, as much as I loved the discount coffee, I work for Addison now.” His eyes search my face for any sign of recognition. He doesn’t find any. “They make custom prosthetics,” he says with that infectious smile that made him popular and most women warm up to him. I can feel the corners of my mouth creep up as well.

“So Olivia, when do I get the full story? This must have been going on for a while. Your student ID says Olivia Martin, but your driver’s license still says, Owen Horton.”

“How much time do you have?”

“I’ve got all day, sweetheart.” Oh that smile again, it just melts me.