I’m woken up by the sound of footsteps. Opening my stinging eyes, I can barely see; my vision blurry, half asleep. The hallway light is on.
Aimee is standing in the doorway.
Don’t know if I’m still up for s*x. Too tired. Feel like crap. Think my hangover’s kicking in. Aimee’s drunk, I can tell. The way she’s just standing there, staring. Silent. Too hammered even to string a sentence together.
She wants s*x. It’s obvious. Otherwise she would’ve just collapsed on the bed, and gone straight to sleep. Closing my eyes, I pray she doesn’t bother me. I hate turning down s*x, but the room’s a little too spinny. I might throw up again.
I hear her footsteps coming towards the bed, softly brushing against the carpet. She’s moments from crashing into a piece of furniture. Huddled up on my side, f
