He braces himself and plods out of the bathroom. One of his socks is lying on the coffee table and his phone is switched off on the sofa. He hasn’t lost it. Small win.
‘Do you have an iPhone charger?’
‘There’s a multi cable thingy near the microwave,’ Loris deadpans before rubbing his lips together.
You don’t taste sober.
Shivers run down Charles’ limbs. They definitely kissed.
‘You okay?’
‘I’ll need a few minutes…’
‘Coffee’s still warm, toast might be cold.’
Charles shuffles to the kitchenette, where he blinks a couple of times at the digital clock on the microwave. ‘Seven-thirty? Why are you up and drawing?’
‘Your fidgeting woke me up. Your purring and babbling kept me up.’
‘Right… I’m already mortified, please don’t rub it in.’
‘I barely slept before a coaching session with a bunch of six-year-olds. I want you to feel bad.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
Charles plugs in his phone and turns it on, massaging the corner of his left eye. He recalls walking like a robot in the fog. But why did he walk here? Did he slip and fall?
In need of brain fuel, he grabs the coffee pot and a mug drying by the sink. Two pieces of bread are sticking out of the toaster. Butter and jam might be more than what he can stomach, so he takes a bite of plain toast and a mouthful of coffee to soften it.
He’s less nauseous than he should be, proportionally to how little he remembers, which means he stayed away from bubbles and didn’t mix wine colours. Small win number two.
He takes another bite, but it doesn’t go down his throat as smoothly as the first one. The notifications popping up on his screen trigger an ominous alarm. Elsy. George. Spencer.
‘Did I drunk-text someone?’
‘Yeah, I made you warn your people that you were here.’
‘Oh.’ Charles lets go of the bread and puts the mug down in fear of dropping it too. ‘Shit.’
‘I didn’t think of proofreading you. Sorry.’
‘Don’t be, it’s my problem.’
‘Sure, but I drunk-confided in a friend once, and that’s nothow I wanted to have that conversation. So if you need me to take the blame, as if I stole your phone and made stuff up, we can negotiate what it’s gonna cost you.’
‘Thank you.’
Charles gulps and opens his chat with Spencer. It’s safer to start with him. Spencer is purblind, he wouldn’t take the hint even if he received a photo of Charles straddling a naked Loris.
He gulps again. What an opportune graphic thought…
23:35 SPENCERtext me back anytime
23:57 SPENCERstill up and waiting
00:21Its noooot Easter yet.
00:26SPENCERwth man
