Unbound

Chapter Three

Lila's POV

The jarring trill of my alarm sliced through the throbbing haze like a hot knife. I groaned, burying my face deeper into the plasticy warmth of the bare mattress.

Becca's pungent morning-after funk wafted up in a ripe wave, setting my stomach roiling in time with the jackhammers pounding inside my skull. Definitely should've sprung for one of those stupid plastic matress protectors like a real adult.

"Urrrghhhh..." My roommate's guttural groan vibrated from somewhere in the sweaty tangle of sheets and limbs behind me.

Forcing one Terry Gilliam-esque eye open, I found Becca's raccoon-smeared makeup frozen in a rictus of sheer oblivion. Blonde dreads stuck out every which way from her bare shoulders like she'd been electrocuted mid-shag.

Her bedraggled state was probably a solid reflection of how I currently looked. And felt. Like I'd been hit by a f*****g freight train comprised of bottom-shelf tequila and... other regrettable decisions.

As if to confirm as much, a vaguely familiar baritone grumble rumbled from the foot of Becca's bed. "The f**k're you shrieky bitches doing with your lives?"

I pried open my other eye, squinting painfully to bring the owner of that Sleep Apnea Foghorn Voice™ into focus. And immediately wished I hadn't.

There, splayed out nude in a decidedly unf̶l̶a̶t̶t̶e̶r̶i̶n̶g̶ Pork Barrell Radius, was Thirst Trap Rando from Vista. At some point his chiseled face had melted into an uncanny Abe Vigoda meets Crypt Keeper vibe straight out of my worst hangover nightmares.

My stomach roiled with fresh queasiness as hazy flashes from last night's bacchanalia started flooding back in scratchy snippets. Writhing against his sweaty bulk as Daddy Yankee blasted from the club speakers. Brutal carpet burn on my knees in some crusty toilet stall while he jackhammered into me from behind. Then passing around a glaringly apparent spliff with Becca in a neon-stained alleyway, swapping tongue-lashingly frank tales of our respective fellatio adventures.

I squeezed my eyes shut again, trying to force the fuzzier recollections back behind their respective brain doors. Nope, no way, not dealing with that fresh hell this early.

"Yo," Thirst Trap groaned again, raking bony fingers through his damp curls. The sheets rustled as he heaved his bloated frame upright, exposing a truly regrettable expanse of rug-scorched back skin. "Where's the john?"

Before I could summon the power of speech from my sandpaper gullet, Becca shot upright with dreadlocks whipping. She squinted blearily at the stranger sprawled butt-naked at the foot of her twin XL.

"Huh?" Her voice was the viscous croak of a thousand-year-old crypt thing being startled awake. "Oh. Right. Down the hall, third door to the..."

Her gravelly instructions trailed off as she fell back into the protective womb of her pillow coma. Bless her shriveled, tarnished soul.

Thirst Trap shot me a vaguely accusatory look - as if I'd somehow been the asshole who lured him into a drunken black hole of bad living choices last night. But the effort of maintaining that glower seemed to exceed his current mental bandwidth.

With a grunt that could've been confused for the hard reboot of a rusted excavator, he lurched up and staggered out into the hall - pubes and pizza gut gloriously on display for the entire dorm wing.

Once his chemically-addled stench wafted out after him, I finally let my lids slide shut again with a piteous whimper. For a few blessed moments, I clung to those precious curative powers of Drunken Oblivion. Blissful darkness, quickly enveloping me back into its murky, cottony embrace.

But far too soon, my phone shrilled again with another blaring reminder of the harsh, fluorescently-lit reality awaiting. I cracked one eye just enough to read the rude digital glare staring back:

NEW CALENDAR REMINDER: Baby$itting Gig @ Morrisons' 10 AM

Oh, s**t. Jack.

Those two simple words exploded like flashbangs inside my aching brain - resurrecting the mortifying memory of yesterday's minor meltdown over my stupid schoolgirl crush. And the unbearable awkwardness sure to greet me after breezing out on that positively unf̶o̶r̶g̶e̶t̶t̶a̶b̶l̶e̶ Gemini Scorpion VaJayJay Tingle of a kiss-off.

Shuddering out a whimper, I dragged my cheek along the sweaty sheets until my face mashed fully into Becca's own damp, drooling open-mouthed stupor beside me. There was only one possible escape from the purgatory awaiting me.

"Becccaaaa," I croaked, forcing myself even deeper into the puddling warmth of our tragic Hangover Cocoon. "End me now..."

Becca's only response was a phlegmy rumble that could generously be interpreted as a half-hearted "f**k you" grumble. I rubbed my cheek against her limp hand dangling off the edge of the mattress. Sweet oblivion through suffocation was starting to look real appealing right about now.

The muffled squeal of the hallway door opening speared through my misery. A chorus of girlish snickers and faux-whispered taunts pricked at my rapidly deflating sense of pride and dignity.

"Oh my god, is that the Craigslist f**k Yeti?"

"Daaamn girl, I thought that hot piece from Theta Sig was blowing up your jill this semester?"

Stomach churning, I slowly cracked one crusty eye open just as the Disgrace Hobgoblin himself lumbered back into view - proudly swinging his Viggo Mortenfranken-dong for all to admire. A fresh gaggle of preened Tri-Delt zeta-skags shrieked with feigned scandalized laughter behind cupped palms.

Personally, I was way too deep in the hangover abyss to feel anything approaching a relatable human emotion right then. My descendent brain stem could only process the most base signals needed to achieve a swift return to calming unconciousness.

"Ugghhrbllrr..." I burbled half-heartedly at the leering herd. Blearily, I flopped a hand in shooing motions - more from muscle instinct than any actual coordinated intent.

That only seemed to embolden their raucous cackling though. The Alpha Preggo of the giggling clique leaned further into the room, blatantly leering at the sloppy bedspread hurricane surrounding me and Becca.

"Ohmigawd Becky, Thrifty Hoe Clitaurus really outdid herself this time! Like, how do you mentally prepare for two hobos gargling your exchange student?"

Riveting commentary, I'm sure - but Becca didn't so much as flinch in response. She just kept on powering through her drunken coma with the resilient energy conservation of a true hibernating bear. Maybe if this whole 'university' farce bottomed out, we could audition as a b**m circus freak show act or something.

At this point, I thought for sure the raucous Thot Patrol would wear themselves out ridiculing me back into peaceful oblivion. But ALAS - the return of Thirst Trap's reanimated corpse signaled a fresh round of hyena chortle-squawks.

"Yo, we leaving or what babe? I got class like...whenever."

His gravel-drawling eruption sent the gaggle into piercing hysterics, no doubt aggravated by my boyfriend's resting Stoned Sloth Face on full display. Not exactly date-and-mate stock, I'll admit. But hey, I'd already crossed the lethargic date r**e portion of this evening. What else was left besides owning my personal shame into infinity?

Still, some fragile flicker of human dignity had me irritably peel open both encrusted lids. I shoved up onto an elbow, rapidly blinking against the obscenely bright haze haloing Thirst Trap's disgustingly nude form. Ugh, did he have to just keep flapping around like an exposed albino xenomorph?

"Yo, zip up your scrotum cloak, asshat," I croaked, fighting against the brain squeezes stabbing behind my eyeballs. "Some of us are trying to cultivate nondiscriminatory alcohol poisoning here."

The remains of my roommate shivered faintly back to half-life beside me, like some swamp mummy detecting the lifeless stirrings of a fresh haunt. Parched lips smacking, Becca peeled open one mascara-caked eye and groaned directly at my newest verbal foe.

"Ughhhzlrlllwhat Shaniqua said, sweatstain...fuck off 'fore I hurl pullin' gnarly flashbacks."

The tension abruptly deflated from Chad Chadington's stringbeany frame as the wilted head hanging from his sun-damaged neck stump bobbed diligently.

"Yeah...cool. You ladies, uh, call me tomorrow or whatever."

And with an awkward seven-point turn reminiscent of those mobility trucks your meemaw rides around Aldi, he stump-tucked his way out the door - leaving only the fading scent of stale beer-and-venereal-disease in his wake.

The sorority turds didn't even have the energy to sustain their outrage in the face of such peak male deflation. One-by-one, their delicately overlined lips crumpled into tight butt-frowns as they shuffled back to their post-brunch habitats - no doubt to complain about the fresh injustice of poor IG lighting or something.

Finally, blissful silence reclaimed the stale dorm room in an Exxon Valdez tsunami of tranquility. I let the heaviness smother me back down against the damp, pilly surface of Becca's bedspread. Fighting only to keep one nostril exposed for airflow. Next to me, her bony hand kneaded absently against my ratty tee-shirt hem as she too subsided into the sweet siren's call of Obliv—

"Ahh s**t! Jack!" I shot back upright so fast my skull threatened implosion.