Author's Note: Sorry, guys. It's been a hellish four months. I was working on my thesis for my Masters and it was devouring my free time. But now that I'm finally finished with school I'll have plenty of free time to crank out chapters. Enjoy and thanks so much for your extreme patience! Happy Reading, n4m.
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Why the fuck did everything hurt?
Because loneliness and alcohol was a dangerous mix.
Grady struggled to open his eyes. His lids were heavy and it felt like tiny shards of glass were poking his eyeballs. Hangovers hadn't been this epic since Blackout Thurdays during undergrad.
Lifting his head wasn't even an option; instead he stayed still, trying not to focus on the queasy rolling of his stomach.
He was too old for this shit.
Drowning his sorrows wasn't going to improve his situation; he needed to snap out of his funk, and soon before it consumed him.
Feeling brave, Grady turned his head. Fuck. It was nearly three in the afternoon. Apparently he didn't sleep, so much as take a mini-coma. His throat was raw and dry as sandpaper. Rolling on his side, Grady eased himself up slowly.
"Fuuuuuuck," he groaned. His head weighed a ton. He shuffled to the bathroom, his pants sagging uncomfortably. Sleeping in jeans wasn't a good idea. He felt completely disgusting and disoriented.
Peeing was a Herculean task. It took everything in him to stand upright. He flushed and quickly washed his hands, splashing water on his face.
The cool water felt fabulous against his skin and he took a few sips before glancing at his reflection. The water helped. He almost felt human.
Almost.
Grady peeled off his outfit from the night before, stuffing the jeans and shirt into the hamper in the corner of the bathroom. Clad only in grey boxer briefs, he eyed his reflection with utter disdain. Fuck, he really let himself go.
Edie used to love his body, his muscles, how much bigger he was than her. She was almost as tall as him, the perfect model height. She said being with him made her feel small and safe. She would snuggle up close on the couch, the crown of her head fitting perfectly in the crook of his arm.
She was the perfect fit, the missing piece of his puzzle.
And now she was gone.
Grady turned from the mirror, from bad memories and headed back to his bedroom. The day was already done for. No use in staying up. He was about to slide back under the blanket when his cordless rang sharply.
Grady was tempted to let the machine pick up, but decided otherwise. It might have been someone important if they were calling his apartment.
"Hello."
"You have some SERIOUS explaining to do, kid" a voice rasped through the speaker.
"Shit" Grady swore. "Nell?"
"Who else?"
Grady couldn't gauge her voice. She sounded kind of pissed off, but he wasn't completely sure.
"Look Nell, I'm sorry. I completely forgot about the article due today--"
"Forgot? Is that your excuse? So that's the reason I got this convoluted piece of ramble emailed to inbox at four-thirty in the morning? Because you forgot?"
Grady was completely confused. What the hell was she talking about? "Wait, what? What email?"
He heard Nell suck her teeth in exasperation. He could only imagine the look on her face right now, perfectly lipsticked lips pursing in irritation, white frame glasses perched on the edge of her beautifully hawkish nose.
"How much did we imbibe last night, kid? You do remember sending me an email containing your latest Go-to-Guy piece, right?"
"Uh, of course" Grady covered. "So what do you think?"
"I think you've got a solid article on your hands. It's a little rough, but with some editing it'll be another hit. You'll have every woman in New York eating out of the palm of your hand."
Great, he thought bitterly. That's exactly what I want. "So you like it," he said.
"I wouldn't go that far. It needs to be redone and the cursing needs to be cleaned up. But it's not entirely a wash. I look forward to the new draft by midnight. Maybe you should stay in and stay sober tonight. Get some real work done."
"Will do, Boss Lady."
The line went dead and Grady sighed with relief, but relief was quickly replaced by confusion. What the fuck was Nell talking about? Unless he drunk-typed in his sleep there was no way in hell he wrote and emailed an article last night, especially in his condition.
Grady padded down the hallway, his socked feet sliding slightly on the wood floors. Bringing his computer to life, he promptly ignored the screensaver and immediately opened an internet window.
He typed in his Gmail info, bringing up his email account. Sure enough, there was a message in the 'sent' folder addressed to Nell.
Grady clicked the message and opened the attachment.
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"When I was younger, girls scared the living daylights out of me. They were taller, smarter, and faster. I didn't know how the hell to compete on their level. I was the short, chubby kid with the unruly hair and the mouth full of metal. I was thirteen years old and the only experience I had with the fairer sex was nightly dreams featuring the most badass vampire slayer with a rich girl's name.
My fear was partly derived out of fascination.
I've always wondered about the mysterious world of girl: the way they could spend hours primping and preening to end up looking effortlessly beautiful, how all those lotions and potions made them smell so damn good, or how just a flip of their hair could whip my boy-hormones into a frenzy and send me searching for the closest notebook.
But most of all, what eluded me was how none of this seemed to faze them. Girls simply have no idea the power they hold over men, how just a look can resort us to drooling, dumbstruck jackasses tripping over one another, desperate for their time.
Needless to say I eventually grew into my looks.
