Daylight. Too much daylight. Even through her closed eyelids, there was too much daylight. Her head hurt. Her mouth tasted of stale beer. She would get up and brush her teeth, but that would require moving, and Abby didn't think she could do that quite yet.
She was also cold. No ... the front half of her was cold, but her back was pleasantly warm. The only pleasant thing about her at the moment.
Abby shifted slightly in bed, and suddenly realized why the front half of her was cold. Previous nights she had slept in her nightgown and coat, and had managed to stay tolerably warm. This morning though, she was naked. Unless you counted her socks.
Opening her eyes a crack, she saw her clothes in a heap on the floor beside the bed. And Luka's clothes were there too. And her back was warm because Luka was spooned against her. Too obviously naked as well.
No. Damn, damn, damn, damn damn!!!!
They hadn't. Had they? She couldn't have been that stupid. But no, as the alcohol-fog (or rather, the post-alcohol-fog) cleared a little, she remembered. Not everything, but enough.
Abby shifted position again, suddenly even more uncomfortable than ever. Luka mumbled something in his sleep, his breath warm against her neck. She tried to scoot away from him, but the edge of the bed was too close. Her only option would be to get up, but the room was freezing. The movement was, however, enough to wake Luka. She felt him stir and he said, "Good morning." His voice was the warmest thing in the room. He reached over for an awkward one armed hug, but Abby sat up quickly.
"Please tell me we didn't do what I think we did," she said.
"Unless we both had the same dream, I think we did." Luka sat up too, his smile vanishing rapidly under a look of surprised hurt. The expression on her face was obviously not what he was expecting to see the morning after.
Abby wasn't sure what to say next. Then it popped out. "How could you? You knew I didn't want this!"
"Didn't want? You were a pretty enthusiastic participant, as I recall."
"I was drunk! You should have known better. You should have known I didn't want it." This had to be someone else's fault, she thought.
"I was drunk too."
"So, that's your excuse? You can do whatever you want, and then blame it on being drunk?"
"So ... what are you saying, Abby? That you aren't responsible for your actions while drunk, but I have to not only be responsible for mine, but I have to be able to read your mind as well? I distinctly remember you starting it."
Abby didn't answer, just grabbed her robe and slid out of bed into the bitter cold of the room. She couldn't look at him.
"Abby ..." He sounded hurt now, not angry. "Can we talk about this like reasonable people?"
"I have to pee, not surprising after all I drank last night." Abby's voice was short. She went into the bathroom and shut the door. She didn't need light to find the toilet. But what she wouldn't give for a hot shower.
She sat on the toilet and tried to think. Luka was right. She had started it. She had let the beer talk; let the beer act. How many had she had after dinner? Neither of them had stopped until the case was empty, and she'd done more than her part in emptying it.
Both of them had been pleasantly drunk -- or more than pleasantly drunk, before the candles had finally burned out. She had done it intentionally, though she hadn't admitted it to herself at the time. If she was drunk, she wouldn't be responsible. She could do what she'd been wanting -- though she hadn't admitted that part either -- for days. She could get what she wanted, and, by making Luka feel a little better too, get rid of a little of the guilt over his injured arm. And none of this would be her fault. She could blame it on the beer. Or on Luka.
But still, it would be nice, she thought, if she could actually remember some of it. If she was going to destroy any hopes she might have had of being able to stay friends -- being able to actually look him in the face again -- she might at least be able to remember the enjoyable parts. But the beer had done its job too well. There were only fragments of memories of last night.
Of them laughing too hard over too much beer. Of her throwing herself at him in a way that she'd never done before (but then, she'd never been drunk ... before). She'd never drank at all when they'd been together). Of Luka's pleased reaction, and of him asking (yes, he had asked, he had been more responsible than she was), if she was sure she wanted to do it. Of them crawling into bed and undressing under the covers. Of giggling together as Luka had tried to do his part one-handed.
She remembered all that. But the actual event -- the pleasure she knew had been there (she knew what sex was like with Luka, she knew she must have enjoyed it!); that had been swallowed up by the booze.
Damn ... damn ... damn.
Abby sat in the bathroom for as long as she could get away with, then reluctantly returned to the bedroom. Luka hadn't stirred from the bed. He would probably need her help getting himself dressed.
"I just realized," he said slowly. "I think we forgot something a little bit important last night. We got a little carried away."
Abby shrugged. "I'm still on the pill. Not that I expected to be needing it just this moment. So, unless Nicole gave something interesting that I should be concerned about ..."
"I doubt it."
"Then don't worry about it." Her voice was still short. She still couldn't really look at him.
"Are you still mad at me?" Luka asked.
"I'm not mad." Abby was pulling her clothes on.
"Was I so terrible last night?"
"No, it was fine." At least she assumed it had been. "It was just ... stupid."
"We were both there, Abby. So, if it was stupid, we were both stupid, right? Neither one of us can blame the other." He hesitated. "But I don't think it was that stupid ... except for the missing condom, anyway. I think it was something we both wanted. And I think we need to think about why we both wanted it."
Abby didn't answer again. She put her coat on and said, "I'll go get breakfast started. Go ahead and get dressed. Yell if you need help with anything."
"No breakfast for me. Just coffee."
Breakfast didn't sound good to Abby either. But coffee, most definitely.
She was also cold. No ... the front half of her was cold, but her back was pleasantly warm. The only pleasant thing about her at the moment.
Abby shifted slightly in bed, and suddenly realized why the front half of her was cold. Previous nights she had slept in her nightgown and coat, and had managed to stay tolerably warm. This morning though, she was naked. Unless you counted her socks.
Opening her eyes a crack, she saw her clothes in a heap on the floor beside the bed. And Luka's clothes were there too. And her back was warm because Luka was spooned against her. Too obviously naked as well.
No. Damn, damn, damn, damn damn!!!!
They hadn't. Had they? She couldn't have been that stupid. But no, as the alcohol-fog (or rather, the post-alcohol-fog) cleared a little, she remembered. Not everything, but enough.
Abby shifted position again, suddenly even more uncomfortable than ever. Luka mumbled something in his sleep, his breath warm against her neck. She tried to scoot away from him, but the edge of the bed was too close. Her only option would be to get up, but the room was freezing. The movement was, however, enough to wake Luka. She felt him stir and he said, "Good morning." His voice was the warmest thing in the room. He reached over for an awkward one armed hug, but Abby sat up quickly.
"Please tell me we didn't do what I think we did," she said.
"Unless we both had the same dream, I think we did." Luka sat up too, his smile vanishing rapidly under a look of surprised hurt. The expression on her face was obviously not what he was expecting to see the morning after.
Abby wasn't sure what to say next. Then it popped out. "How could you? You knew I didn't want this!"
"Didn't want? You were a pretty enthusiastic participant, as I recall."
"I was drunk! You should have known better. You should have known I didn't want it." This had to be someone else's fault, she thought.
"I was drunk too."
"So, that's your excuse? You can do whatever you want, and then blame it on being drunk?"
"So ... what are you saying, Abby? That you aren't responsible for your actions while drunk, but I have to not only be responsible for mine, but I have to be able to read your mind as well? I distinctly remember you starting it."
Abby didn't answer, just grabbed her robe and slid out of bed into the bitter cold of the room. She couldn't look at him.
"Abby ..." He sounded hurt now, not angry. "Can we talk about this like reasonable people?"
"I have to pee, not surprising after all I drank last night." Abby's voice was short. She went into the bathroom and shut the door. She didn't need light to find the toilet. But what she wouldn't give for a hot shower.
She sat on the toilet and tried to think. Luka was right. She had started it. She had let the beer talk; let the beer act. How many had she had after dinner? Neither of them had stopped until the case was empty, and she'd done more than her part in emptying it.
Both of them had been pleasantly drunk -- or more than pleasantly drunk, before the candles had finally burned out. She had done it intentionally, though she hadn't admitted it to herself at the time. If she was drunk, she wouldn't be responsible. She could do what she'd been wanting -- though she hadn't admitted that part either -- for days. She could get what she wanted, and, by making Luka feel a little better too, get rid of a little of the guilt over his injured arm. And none of this would be her fault. She could blame it on the beer. Or on Luka.
But still, it would be nice, she thought, if she could actually remember some of it. If she was going to destroy any hopes she might have had of being able to stay friends -- being able to actually look him in the face again -- she might at least be able to remember the enjoyable parts. But the beer had done its job too well. There were only fragments of memories of last night.
Of them laughing too hard over too much beer. Of her throwing herself at him in a way that she'd never done before (but then, she'd never been drunk ... before). She'd never drank at all when they'd been together). Of Luka's pleased reaction, and of him asking (yes, he had asked, he had been more responsible than she was), if she was sure she wanted to do it. Of them crawling into bed and undressing under the covers. Of giggling together as Luka had tried to do his part one-handed.
She remembered all that. But the actual event -- the pleasure she knew had been there (she knew what sex was like with Luka, she knew she must have enjoyed it!); that had been swallowed up by the booze.
Damn ... damn ... damn.
Abby sat in the bathroom for as long as she could get away with, then reluctantly returned to the bedroom. Luka hadn't stirred from the bed. He would probably need her help getting himself dressed.
"I just realized," he said slowly. "I think we forgot something a little bit important last night. We got a little carried away."
Abby shrugged. "I'm still on the pill. Not that I expected to be needing it just this moment. So, unless Nicole gave something interesting that I should be concerned about ..."
"I doubt it."
"Then don't worry about it." Her voice was still short. She still couldn't really look at him.
"Are you still mad at me?" Luka asked.
"I'm not mad." Abby was pulling her clothes on.
"Was I so terrible last night?"
"No, it was fine." At least she assumed it had been. "It was just ... stupid."
"We were both there, Abby. So, if it was stupid, we were both stupid, right? Neither one of us can blame the other." He hesitated. "But I don't think it was that stupid ... except for the missing condom, anyway. I think it was something we both wanted. And I think we need to think about why we both wanted it."
Abby didn't answer again. She put her coat on and said, "I'll go get breakfast started. Go ahead and get dressed. Yell if you need help with anything."
"No breakfast for me. Just coffee."
Breakfast didn't sound good to Abby either. But coffee, most definitely.