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Angela wakes up in a haze, completely unaware of the drunken kiss she shared with Amanda the night before.
Her body feels like it has been turned inside out, like hell flipped over. She struggles to the nearest bathroom, dragging her lazy limbs and finally reaching the toilet, her hands gripping the seat. Her eyes stared down into the bowl, and a wave of nausea struck her hard.
She remembers blurs of half-remembered moments in her head, flickers of things that may or may not be familiar: the sharp smell of citrus becoming more pungent, a spinning room, and a sudden rush of warmth. It’s like trying to hold onto a dream. The more she tries to recall it, the more it slips away, made even more difficult by her pounding hangover.
Stumbling into the kitchen, she reaches for a bottle of Advil in a cabinet, downs two tablets with a glass of water and trips her way back into her bed to fall asleep.
Maybe tonight, she’ll ask the others what happened.
“If I get drunk today,” Angela says, laughing slightly, on the verge of becoming tipsy, “Please remind me of what I did.”
“That’s not what you told me last time,” Amanda smirks, sipping her martini. “You don’t handle alcohol well - I don’t think you’ll be able to handle partying with me if you get drunk so quickly.”
“I am fine. I am fine,” Angela states with assurance, not for Amanda but for herself. Angela bumps into Amanda lightly, becoming more touchy by the second. The familiar fragrance of orange blossom and lemonade hangs between them, a spell of summer amid this cold weather, and warmth blooms from their contact. “What did I tell you last time? What did I do?”
“That if you got drunk, you didn’t want me to tell you what you did,” The taller woman muses, staring at Angela over her drink. “If you called out for me, I should ignore you.”
“Why?”
“Because you said you may do something you would regret.”
Oh.
Amanda smiles kindly at her, and Angela finds herself fixated on her lips - what does that martini taste like? “But I don’t think it should be something you should regret because I enjoyed it.”
“I don’t even remember what I did.”
“Then I’ll serve you a reminder,” Amanda grins, pulling Angela closer. “I think you said something like I love you and kissed me.”
Amanda did serve her a reminder; a quiet “I love you” whispered upon Angela’s lips with a hint of martini.