The next morning I half-expected Alex to be gone, but he wasn't lying about not having anywhere to go. When I walked out of my room, I initially didn't see him, and I thought I was alone.
I took a deep breath and sauntered over to the kitchen, carefully checking my surroundings. I kept thinking I'd find Alex asleep under a pile of clothes or something so I treaded carefully to avoid tripping.
I didn't see anything that would make think he was here, so I walked into my tiny kitchen. Lo and behold, there he was, passed out sitting up against the refrigerator door with a bottle of champagne in his hand. He was wearing nothing but boxers and a sideways baseball cap.
"Fucking hell, Alex." I snapped, nudging him with my foot. "Get off my damn floor!"
His eyes opened and he sighed. "I got a hotel, I swear." He held up his hand in surrender and squinted his eyes shut before continuing. "But I saw this bottle and you know I like to pop my champagne…" he doubled over and threw up all over himself and part of my floor.
My eyes instinctively made their way to the clock, further reminding myself that I needed to be at work in a few minutes. I looked at the door, and then back at Alex.
I really contemplated leaving for a while, but being the nurse that I am, I couldn't leave a sick person alone like this. Especially in my house.
"C'mon, Alex" I groaned, attempting to lift him. He grabbed onto the counter and pulled himself up weakly.
"Lauren I think I know what death feels like" he squeaked out, before throwing up into the kitchen sink. "Just leave me here, I don't think I can move anymore." His hat drooped slightly over his forehead, pushing his hair into his face.
"Ugh," I pushed him back into the refrigerator door, holding him up with my hands. He was significantly taller, but I was successfully able to keep him from falling over. "GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF, MAN!" I yelled.
After my little intervention, I dragged him to the bathtub and somehow managed to dump him in there and undress him. I tried my best to avoid touching his "man parts" because I didn't want him getting the wrong idea. I left the baseball cap on, though. It was kind of cute.
The situation I currently found myself in sent me into a wave of nostalgia, reminding me of a time that was just a few months ago, when Jonathan and I were still together.
I remembered waking up from a night of heavy drinking, feeling beyond sick. My head was still spinning, despite the fact that I had hours of sleep under my belt. Jonathan was just about as sick as Alex was now, but he carried me to his Jacuzzi tub and laid out bath salts for a cozy bath.
We ended up cuddling in the bath; I sat between his legs and rested up against his torso. He'd kiss my cheek occasionally, and we just enjoyed each other's company, despite feeling like we were about to die.
Alex threw up again and it shook me back to reality.
"Fuck." I muttered out loud.
"I know, I fucking suck. I'm sorry" Alex started to sob. "Lauren, I'm not okay right now."
"You and me both, kid." I retorted, leaning my back against the wall of the tub. "What's on your mind?"
He sniffled and sunk lower into the water. "I mean, my dad's in the hospital… I just lost my mom." He looked down and wiped his eyes. "I gave up my whole family for this tour. Mom died and I barely had any time to say goodbye."
He rubbed his eyes and started to breathe heavily. "And then when I give up the tour to be with my only remaining family, I lose my girlfriend because I screwed over the band. I can't fucking win."
"Girlfriend, huh?" I questioned. He hadn't mentioned one since coming here, though now his advances on me made a lot more sense.
"Yeah!" he sniffed. "She was pretty cool. I met her one night at a show and we clicked. She didn't even know who I was at first. Imagine that!" He started to laugh. "She's the only person recently that I've met that didn't treat me like someone I'm not. Like I didn't have to pretend to be anything other than who I am." He sighed. "I mean, you always did that. But, with her it was different. I don't know."
His sudden comments took me aback and I felt the familiar sting of tears behind my eyes. "I see." I was rapidly regretting the decision to even ask.
"I'm going to leave you to it," I whispered. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "Feel better, rockstar."
"Please don't go!" he cried.
I was too far past the point of caring about his feelings. Caring about everyone else's feelings is what got me to this point. As of now, I've decided it's time I worry about me. "I have to go to work. I'll be home soon."
And with that, I left him naked and hungover in my bathtub.