The moaning after

JENNIE

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I blink up at the ceiling fan. My head throbs from the champagne hangover and that godawful noise in my ears. I roll over to see where the hell it's coming from. There, in the king-sized bed beside me, wrapped up in a white sheet and completely naked—or at least, naked as far as I can tell—is Lisa.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no." I sit up and discover I too am naked. "Holy shit."

I run through a physical checklist. My body hurts, but that's likely thanks to the illness I've been fighting off this whole week. My brain hurts, courtesy of the combination of alcohol and cough syrup I consumed and not because my head was pounded into the headboard last night. My assessment travels further. No love bites that I can see on my torso or arms. Safe there. And between my legs there's none of the soreness usually associated with the morning after. I cover myself with the sheet and flop back on the bed in relief.

I should get up. I should be all about my bride today, and I don't have time to try to figure out what the hell Lisa is doing naked in my bed, but . . . oh, the aching. Not to mention that my career is likely about to go kaboom. I'm pretty sure getting black-out drunk at your client's wedding—where you also happen to be the maid of honor—is social and professional suicide. An image of Chaeng screaming at me comes unbidden into my mind and then it all sinks home—the drinking, wrestling Lisa for the champagne bottle, finally getting the cork free and feeling it fly from my hands through the air and into . . . oh my God. Oh my God.

I shove at Lisa's sleeping form. "Oh my God! Did I break the bride's nose?"

"Yep," she groans into the pillow. "Yeah, that definitely happened."

I cover my mouth. "Oh God."

"You also puked all over the table, let it slip that Chaeng and Chan are pregnant, you told Nayeon—and I quote—that she should go back to wherever the hell British people come from, in a pretty impressive accent, I might add. You simultaneously hit on me and my brother, and you blacked out on Chan's Aunt Myrtle."

"No!"

"Yeah." She grabs her phone from the nightstand and waves it at me. "June got it all on tape. I made him delete it, but not before he sent it to me."

"Oh no."

Lisa grins. "Oh, yes."

"I'm ruined. This wedding is ruined."

"Don't go freaking out yet, Pop Tart. The good news is that most of the guests had retired before you passed out, so only a handful of people saw you making an ass of yourself. The bad news is you broke the bride's nose and she spent the night before her wedding being airlifted to and from the hospital on the mainland."

I take several deep breaths, but it's official. I'm hyperventilating. Lisa rubs circles on my back. It feels nice. And then I remember we're naked.

"You haven't explained why we're naked, and in bed together." My voice comes out a shrill screech. "Why are we naked?"

"Because I didn't want my bungalow smelling like puke, and we were both covered in it."

"You showered me?"

"And washed your hair."

Oh my god. Not only did Manoban the Ass clean up my puke, but she saw me completely naked. She bathed me, and washed my hair. She had unfettered access to every part of me, likely saw every imperfection, every roll, stretchmark, and blemish on my skin. "Did you do anything else while I was unconscious?"

She stiffens beside me. "Yeah, I totally took a series of nudes for my collection. Of course I didn't. I may be a womanizer, as you so eloquently like to put it, but I'm always a gentlewoman."

Well, I had to ask. Didn't I? I mean, this is Manoban the Ass we're talking about. She's a serial misogynist, a philanderer, and she's . . . she's a danger to vaginas everywhere.

Apparently, she's also pissed off. Lisa seems to have no qualms about nudity, because she gets up and walks across the room completely naked. Head to toe, she's nothing but smooth, tanned skin. Is it just me or did it suddenly become far too hot in this room?

She stalks into the bathroom and shuts the door. I cover my face with my hands and wish that I could just sink through the floorboards into the sea and be carried away by mermen.

I remove my hands from my eyes. No such luck. I'm still here, and it's clear that the mess I made isn't going to fix itself.

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