The morning was cold but the sky was clear, and the harsh sunlight found its way easily through the light frost on Holly J's windows. As she opened her eyes, it was like a thousand tiny knives jabbing at the perimeter of her skull. Pain and confusion filled her head as she took in her situation: safely in her own bed, but still wearing her Christmas dress and wrapped, for some reason, in the afghan from Jay's apartment.

She sat up and rubbed her tired face, overwhelmed with the dryness in her throat and the throbbing in her head. She felt disoriented, and consumed by the strange realization that she may have dreamed of Jay naked last night.

She felt a roil in her stomach and rolled, quickly, over the side of her bed, launching a deluge of bright orange vomit onto the carpet.

When her painful puking session receded into uncomfortable dry heaving, she lie on her stomach and gazed through watery eyes at the mess on the floor.

"When did I eat Cheez-its?" she murmured.

A knock on her bedroom door gave her sense of panic. "I'm... not dressed yet," she rasped, dreading any conversation she might have to have.

The door flew open, and a freshly showered Heather walked through the door. She wore a blue terry robe with a matching towel wrapped around her wet hair. "Oh no," said Heather in a rumbling, sarcastic monotone. She shut the door behind her and paused with her hands on her hips, throwing shade as she eyeballed her little sister. "Look at all the fucks I'm not giving."

Holly J sat up in bed, folding her arms and pouting. "What do you want?"

Heather cocked an eyebrow. "That's an awfully curt tone to take with the person who snuck you back into the house and put you to bed."

Holly J glanced in confusion at her vomit pile again, then down at the rumpled blankets and the Christmas dress she was still wearing. "What... what happened last night?" She remembered sneaking champagne, dodging relatives by pretending to go to bed early... and then... did she take a bus? Everything in her head felt blurry and surreal.

"I was hoping you could tell me. Last night you came home wasted in the vehicle of what I can only describe as the most disgusting person I've ever met."

Blurry pieces took clearer shape as Holly J recalled her evening. She had taken the bus to Jay's apartment... she had vague memories of Cheezits, television, and Jay's flaccid penis, which she realized she hadn't dreamed after all.

"Jay... brought me home," Holly J articulated, asking Heather as much as she was telling herself.

"From God knows where. How do you even know that guy? Seriously, honestly, the slimiest person I went to school with."

Holly J might have known that Heather would disapprove of her friendship with Jay, but it took this morning's confrontation for her to really face it. Everything Holly J had once assumed about who she was, what it meant to be a "Sinclair," had changed so dramatically in the last few months. She could really only see the starkness of the change when confronted with Heather, who had once just been an older, meaner version of the same person.

Last summer, she could easily see herself hanging out with Heather, reveling in talking shit about people like Jay. But now... Heather had left home, everything came out with their family money troubles, she'd been working at the Dot, she'd been brought down by a cyberbullying campaign... So much had transpired. She was different, now. She was different, and she didn't give a flying crap what the world thought about Jay Hogart.

She chuckled a bit, though immediately regretted the sudden movement. She held up one hand to shield her eyes from the piercing sunlight, and used the other to clutch her nauseated stomach. "He's not slimy," Holly J said. "To be honest, he's kind of my favorite person ever."

Heather wrinkled her nose. "Gag me. Do you even know anything about him? You're not... you're not sleeping with him, are you?"

At that, Holly J laughed again. She had nearly forgotten that the spark of this friendship, the beginnings of what had come to be her new normal, was actually just an ill-conceived plan to lose her virginity.

"Sleeping with him? In his dreams." Even as she said it, though, a wide smile spread across her face.

Heather shuddered and shook her head. "This is... this is worse than I thought. You're glowing, for God's sake. You came home last night in Jay Hogart's car, you look like eighteen tons of shit, you are literally two feet away from your own vomit pile, and you're smiling at the thought of this creep. It's like I go away to college and this entire household falls apart. We've got to set this right. Let's get you a nice hot shower, grab some brunch, and we'll sit down and talk about everything I've missed. Whatever kind of misguided adolescent rebellion you've got going on here, your dear sister will fix it."

Holly J sighed. She was in too much pain to argue, and she certainly couldn't say no to brunch. She tiptoed around the puke on the floor and allowed Heather to escort her to the bathroom, where the deluge of refreshing water was more than welcome.

Mr. Sinclair was already headed back to the office from his holiday, and Mrs. Sinclair had set about returning gifts, so it was left to Heather to answer the knock that came on the door.

She was just about as surprised to see this next visitor as she had been to see Jay Hogart pull into the driveway last night. "What do you want?" she asked the unexpected visitor on the front porch. "How do you even know where I live?"

Spinner Mason, standing in the Sinclair doorway, didn't seemed surprised that Heather wasn't happy to see him. He couldn't remember a time in high school when Heather Sinclair had ever seemed happy, to be honest.

"Your sister works for me. Didn't you know?" The horrified look in her eyes indicated that she clearly did not know. "But anyway, I'm here on behalf of a friend who says you will quote 'find a way to make his life miserable' if he's seen here again." He held out the cardboard box in his hands for her to take. "This is a gift for Holly J. Jay wanted to make sure she got it at 'the hangover waking hour,' which we both guessed is about noon. Were we right?"

Reluctantly, Heather took the box in her hands as she gazed suspiciously at Spinner. "Ugh. Whatever." The door was abruptly shut in Spinner's face.

As Heather brought the box inside, Holly J was descending the stairs, now clad in a bathrobe and head-towel of her own. She gazed questioningly at the box.

"Where did that come from?" she asked.

"Definitely not Santa Claus," Heather clipped, looking as though she just as soon toss it in the garbage as open it. "Your ill-chosen suitor had it delivered via Spinner Mason."

The coy, glowing smile returned to Holly J's face as she hurried to snatch the box from Heather's hands. She sat on the couch and opened it carefully. Inside, she found three bottles of Gatorade, a sachet of ginger tea, two hardboiled eggs in foil packet, a pair of sunglasses, a bottle of ibuprofen, and several still-warm cheesy biscuits from the Dot, wrapped in paper towels. There was a note, too, that she hastily unfolded.

Holly J,

Goddamn you. You never stop surprising and impressing me. How a ninety pound ginger chugs two bottles of champagne and still manages to stumble to my apartment, insult me, and eat all my Cheezits, I still can't put together. You left me with a literal and metaphorical boner, you shortstack temptress, and to be honest I don't really know what to do about either. Here's a few things to help you with the horrible morning that awaits you (I know because that was me yesterday... and most days, actually). See you when I see you.

-Stinko

Holly J's face was flushed pink as her smile broadened. Heather watched with concern. "What is it? Why are you making that face?"

Holly J ran her fingers over the edges of the paper, re-reading the message as butterflies or something equally squirmy filled her stomach. "I think this is his version of shadow-dancing," she murmured.

"Um... what?"

"He likes me," Holly J clarified. "He really actually likes me."