I’m still sleepy from the car ride, so I don’t put up a fight. I walk over and collapse onto the couch cushions, then listen to him banging around the kitchen before he comes back with a glass of water.
“Drink up.”
He sits beside me while I gulp it down.
“Merci,” I thank him once I’m done.
“You want more?”
“In a second. My head is really itchy. I—Oh.” I stop scratching my head and pull my fingers away to find a leaf pinched between them. “I forgot I had this thing on my head.”
I try to get the wreath out, but it’s all wrapped up in curls and pins and twisty braids.
“Câlice. Whatever. I’ll sleep in it.”
“Here. Let me.”
Zach shifts on his couch cushion and motions for me to spin around so I’m sitting cross-legged with my back to him. His fingers start untangling my up-do. All the bridesmaids got their hair done this afternoon, and so many hours of pins and hairspray has me feeling like my scalp is about to fall off. I sigh as the pressure loosens.
“That feels nice,” I murmur.
The sleepiness is already setting in again. My chin droops forward onto my chest. I hear Zach chuckle, and the sound seems like it’s coming from far away. His hands feel so good playing with my hair, and everything is warm and peaceful and quiet. I make a little humming sound.
Enough minutes pass that I’m sure I must be dreaming, but when I mutter, “Did you wear that tie to match my hair?” I swear I hear him laugh and tell me he was hoping I would notice.
Twelve
Zach
PICK ME UP: any beverage consumed with the intention of easing the effects of overindulgence in alcohol
I don’t knowwhere I am when I wake up. There’s an Indian tapestry hung across the window instead of a curtain, and the light that filters through it casts the whole room in a red and orange glow.
I do know that I’m cold. I look down and find myself curled up in a ball under a thin, knitted blanket that’s not big enough to cover my feet. I’m only wearing boxers and socks. Scanning the room, I find my suit in a heap on the floor next to the brown couch I’m lying on. I spot my pink tie, and it all comes flooding back.
I’m at DeeDee’s place. I took her home last night.
Sitting up, I rub the back of my neck before stretching my arms above my head. Then I throw the blanket over my shoulders for warmth.
I hear water running in what must be the bathroom and jump to my feet, digging for my pants in the pile of clothing while trying to keep the blanket from sliding off. It really is damn cold in here. I’ve managed to get one pant leg on, and I’m frantically hopping around to get my foot through the other when the bathroom door opens.
A girl I’ve never seen before walks out.
She pauses and stares me as I hit the edge of the couch and fall back onto the cushions.
“Salut, cutie.”
“Uh,bonjour.”
She clucks her tongue. “English?”
Is my accent really that bad?
“Either or.”
She switches to English for me. “Usually when girls bring boys home from weddings, they sleep in the same bed, but who am I to judge? Do you want some breakfast? I just popped in to change and grab some food before work.”
“Um...” I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m sitting here with a blanket around my shoulders and my pants around my knees while a strange woman with fire-truck red hair asks me if I want breakfast.
