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Brendon

I feel like shit. My costume is soaked down the front from trying to bob for dicks, since they ran out of boobs, and it’s cold. Jeremy also dunked me in the bucket, which led to a dick squishy war. There are dicks everywhere.

My head is spinning, and I keep running into shit. I don’t know where Jeremy or Paul went, and I have vomit on my shoes, I think. Is it mine?

I taste my mouth, and I don’t think I’ve thrown up . . .

The noise has died down, but is that because I left the party zone or because the party is over?

Where’s my phone?

I stumble my way around, I think I’m on campus still, and kind of hope to find my dorm. My stomach hurts, and I want to cuddle with Paul, and my head is pounding.

Is that the dining hall?

Am I going the right way?

I’ll find it eventually.

I just want to go to bed. The alcohol is wearing off, giving me the hangover of all hangovers. I need Paul to cuddle me, play with my hair, and let me lay on him.

“Hey, man, you good?” An arm drops around my shoulders, and I turn to find Willis, one of our D men.

“Hey, buddy. Where are the dorms? I’m tired.” I pat his stomach and lean my head on his shoulder.

He chuckles and turns me around. “You just missed the door, come on.”

“You’re such a nice boy.” I pat his cheek while he leads me to the door of the building I was walking past.

“Yeah, sure, dude, whatever you say.”

He opens the door and leads me inside. I lean against him while we wait for the elevator. My energy is quickly leaving me, and my stomach is super not happy. Shit.

The ding of the doors opening has me jerking open my eyes that I didn’t realize I had closed. Willis keeps a hand on me as we step inside, and he hits the three for me. I relax against the wall for the quick ride, and my teammate walks me to my room. I try the handle, and it opens. I cheer and pat Willis on the arm.

“Thanks, partner.”

He laughs and shakes his head while I enter the dark room and close the door behind me.

I pull on the neck of my costume but get caught and end up falling on my face on the floor.

“Paaaaaaaul,” I whine, my face still on the dingy carpet. “Help me.”

There’s a rustling and a huff.

“Paaaaaaaaul,” I whine again.

“What are you doing?” he grumbles.

I roll over onto my back and try again but can’t figure out why the stupid thing isn’t coming off.

“I neeeeeeed you,” I call. Fuck, I need him so much. So much more than I should. It’s scary how much I need him. He’s my husband, but sometimes it still doesn’t feel real. “Please.” There’s a lump in my throat that hurts to talk around. He could walk away, get tired of me and my antics.

I grip the edges of my costume and pull hard, ripping it until I can finally get my arms free and slither out of it. When I’m in just my jock and socks, my stomach rolls, and I hustle to the bathroom on all fours, barely making it in time to throw up in the toilet.

The room spins, and sweat breaks out along my forehead and back while I empty the contents of my stomach into the porcelain bowl.

I’m gasping for breath on the linoleum floor, leaning on the toilet when a damp cloth is placed on my face. Paul wipes my mouth and gives me a cup. I swish my mouth out with the water, then lean against him.

“All done?” His voice is quiet in the dark space that smells like both of us. I nod, and he flushes, then helps me to my feet. “Come on, time to sleep.”

“Can I sleep with you?” I sound pathetic, but I don’t care. I don’t feel good, and I just want the comfort of him next to me. We sleep together most nights, but tonight, I need him to tell me it's okay. I need him to tell me he doesn’t hate me, he isn’t mad at me, he isn’t tired of me.

“Of course.” He kisses the top of my head and leads me to his bed. He pulls back the blanket and lays down so I can lay on his bare chest. The warmth of his body calms my mind and loosens the knot in my throat. I close my eyes, and I’m out before he’s pulled the blankets up over us.

The dive alarm of Paul’s goddamn phone starts screaming at an unholy hour. I want to shove ice picks in my ears to make the sound stop. There are already drums being played by hyperactive toddlers in my head along with a band that’s synching tighter and tighter until I want to scream.

“Rise and shine,” Paul’s sleep-roughened voice rumbles in my ear, and he rubs his hand down my back to rest on my bare ass. Why is my ass bare? Am I naked?

“Turn it off,” I grumble, dropping my arm over my head to protect myself from the obnoxious noise. “Why do you hate me?”

“Time for the gym, come on.” Paul pushes me off him and climbs off the bed. When I sit up, the pain in my skull intensifies, and I groan. “Meds and water are next to you.”

Cracking an eye open, I see the two pills and water bottle sitting on the bedside table and take both. Thank fuck one of us was smart enough to think about that.

The light in the bathroom flicks on, and I flinch as pain shoots through my brain.

“Fuuuck,” I groan, covering my eyes with my hands and leaning my elbows on my knees.

“You should get up and move, finish the water bottle. You’re dehydrated,” Paul says as the scrape of his dresser drawers being opened sounds.

I get to my feet and sway a bit. When I crack my eyes open again to see where I’m going, I see Paul watching me with a weird expression. If I wasn’t in so much pain, I might be able to figure it out, but I can’t right now.

I stumble to the dresser and pull open my drawer to find some shorts.

“May want to change out of the jockstrap.” Paul’s words have me looking down at myself. Shit. That would explain the naked ass.

I find underwear and push my jock to the floor. As I step out, I start to fall over, but Paul grabs me, and I sag into him.

“Thank you,” I pant, already exhausted.

His lips brush the back of my neck, then he helps me get the compression boxers on that I use for workouts. It takes a ridiculous amount of energy to get them over my ass, and by the time they’re up, my stomach is rolling. I run for the bathroom and throw up the meds and water, then dry heave. My muscles ache, and I lean my head on my crossed arms on the toilet seat. Fuck. Me.

By some miracle I make it to the gym only a few minutes late. Paul found some stale-ass crackers in our room, and I got more meds down with water. So far, it’s holding, but I’m sweaty from the exertion of getting here.

By the time the meds kick in and the band around my head loosens, I realize I am not the only one hurting this morning.

Carmichael is of course showing us all up. Paul appears to be fine—but he’s babying his shoulder a bit for some reason—along with Carp, but everyone else is sluggish. I don’t feel so bad now.

Coach comes into the gym while we’re rotating through our stations for leg day and huffs.

“Tonight’s practice will not be easy. If you’re going to act like a bunch of jackasses, learn how to take care of yourself so you’re not hungover the next day,” the gruff man snaps. He’s clearly unimpressed with us. “Hydrate. Vitamins. Pain meds before passing out. And learn your goddamn limits!”

He storms from the gym, the door slamming against the wall on his way out, and a bunch of us flinch at the noise.

We fucked up, and we all know it.

I’m at the leg press, forcing my way through my second set when Jeremy comes over. He’s pale with dark circles under his eyes and looks like he’s about to fall over.

“Okay, we may have gone a little overboard last night.” He leans against the machine when Preston comes over and snorts behind him.

“No shit,” I complain. There’s a loud clang as I let the weights fall. “I feel like a newborn kitten. I’m not even using the weight I normally do.”

I grab my towel and wipe the sweat off my face, weak and exhausted. I just want to go back to bed, but I have classes after this.

We all switch machines, and I see Jeremy try to talk to Paul, but Paul is stretching his arm. He’s clearly upset about something and in pain, but I have no idea what is going on. Did I do something?

After an hour and a half of bullshitting my way through my workout, I force myself to shower and change before heading to the dining hall for food. I’m not really hungry, but if I don’t eat now, I’ll regret it later.

Jeremy and Preston are waiting for me when I leave the locker room fucking around on their phones.

“What did you do to Paul?” Jeremy asks before looking up.

“What are you talking about?” I cross my arms and wait for him to pay attention.

“He’s mad about something. What did you do?”

We start walking toward the dining hall, and I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. I have no fucking idea.

“Why do you think I did something?” I ask defensively. If Paul is mad about something, there’s a ninety percent chance it was something I did or said. That’s just a fact.

Jeremy gives me an “are you serious” look, and I sigh.

“I have no idea, but he’s been weird since I woke up.”

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m thinking. Jesus. Chill out.” Jeremy opens the door for us, and I walk through. Scanning the area, I find Paul sitting with Carpenter and Willis, smiling at something Willis is saying. What the fuck?

He turns his head, and when he sees me, the smile drops, and an emotion I can’t name covers his face. Damn. What the hell did I do?

Jeremy whistles quietly, and all I can do is nod. I fucked up big.

Anxiety eats at me, making me fidgety and nervous. I grab a few things to eat and check out with my meal card. Even Preston is aware of the tension because he didn’t say shit about the bacon or toast on my plate. Jeremy leads us to the table where the guys are sitting, and as we set our trays down, Carpenter looks between Paul and me, who stands.

“I was just leaving. Later.” Without a backward glance, he deals with his tray and leaves the hall.

I drop heavily into my chair and look at Carp. “What the fuck happened last night?”

“You two assholes were drunk as fuck.” He motions between Jeremy and me. “While he was digging a foam tit out of Albrooke’s pants, you jumped on Albrooke’s back and wrenched Johnson’s shoulder pretty good.”

Preston’s head snaps toward Paul, eyes wide with possessive fury. Jeremy reaches for him under the table, but all I can do is watch the love of my life walk away from me.

Eventually, they all get annoyed by you and leave. It was only a matter of time.

Fuck. Did I seriously hurt him?

I shovel the food into my mouth, not paying any attention to the conversation around me, then stand and leave. Hustling to my dorm room, I hope he hasn’t left for class already.

I burst into the room, ignoring Nikki standing outside again, and Paul jumps at the unexpected entrance, but turns his back to me again.

“I’m sorry I hurt your shoulder.” The words come out sounding almost like gibberish in my rush to get them out.

“Whatever,” he huffs, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.

“No,” I almost shout, grabbing his arm. “I don’t remember most of last night, but whatever I did that made you angry, I’m sorry. I’m sure I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Paul clenches his jaw hard enough for the muscle in his cheek to jump, then sighs and leans into me, his forehead against my cheek. “I have to get to class.”

My entire body slumps. Resigned and heartbroken. It’s stupid, right? Weak? To be this hurt that someone is mad at me. Paul is my person. He has been for a long time. Even when I was sleeping with Jeremy, Paul was my comfort.

Now my skin tingles, and ice shoots through my veins as the fear of losing my best friend settles on my shoulders.

I love you, Paul. Please don’t leave me.

I know I’m broken. I’ve expected him to get tired of me forever, but now that it’s happening, I can’t breathe.

With tears running down my cheeks and shaking hands, I drop my face into my palms and cry.

What did I do?