When Thomas woke the next morning, not of his own will but from barrage of texts that came from his phone, a throbbing permeated through his head. The hangover was real, despite not actually having had that much the night before, but it had been quite a while since he last drank at all, and he had clearly lost all tolerance for it.
Still, no amount of headache or blazing light in his eyes could dampen his mood. Through the pain, the memories from the night before drifted into his mind, and a smile stretched across his face.
Everything was a haze, a blur of ecstasy leaving no doubt that it had all happened, it was all real.
The sound from his phone snapped Thomas back to reality. Reaching over and across the bed towards the nightstand, the notification came up on his screen.
"On our way to get you. Ten minutes."
Thomas read the message, having forgotten that his friends were taking him to breakfast. He closed his eyes and placed both hands on either side of his temples, rubbing slowly to ease the throbbing.
As best he was able, Thomas stood up, stumbled, and tried again. Stretching his arms over his head, he yawned deeply. The next few minutes were a blur as he slipped into the bathroom next to his room and turned the shower on. As the water warmed, he searched the medicine cabinet for an Advil. Taking two for good measure, he slipped into the warm water stream and quickly cleaned himself off. He dried himself quickly, dressing in a pair of jeans and his favorite t-shirt, old and worn, but still fitted and comfortable.
When he climbed the stairs towards the kitchen, he expected to find it empty since his parents were likely to be sleeping on these vacation days. Instead, he was surprised to see Celine, sitting at the table with a book and a cup of coffee, wearing the same long nightshirt from the night before.
Thomas almost tripped over the last step as he saw her, while his face blushed red. His courage from the night before had vanished, clearly having been fueled by the drinks he had consumed, meanwhile Celine did not change at all in her facial expression, nor lift her gaze from the pages of her book.
Thomas stammered with his voice caught in his throat. Celine finally looked up from her book, and said, "Good morning, sleep well?"
Thomas meant to speak, but found himself lacking in words. He finally squeaked out, "Yes. Thank you. How about you?"
"Very well, I always sleep well after a relaxing evening with some wine and a good movie."
Thomas nodded, unsure of what else to say. Celine continued, right as Thomas' phone received another message, "Did you like it all, Thomas? Everything you saw?"
Thomas nodded again, while the phone let him know that his friends were outside. "Yeh, the movie was really good."
Celine flashed him a wicked smile, "I'm glad you did."
Thomas felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and knew already what it would say, "My friends are taking me to breakfast," he said, still looking sheepish.
"Well, have a great time." She replied, standing up and moving over to him, giving him a peck on the cheek, and whispering into his ear, "I can't wait to see you later on."
Thomas felt the goosebumps forming all across his arms, and a twinge in his pants. Celine sat back down as he slipped meekly out the door of the kitchen and through the living room towards the front door. He slipped on his jacket and boots, and walked out to the familiar sight of the blue Honda that Eric had bought two years.
As soon as he was sitting with his friends again, Thomas felt as if no time had passed between them. His headache dwindled as he ate and drank a hearty English breakfast at one of their favorite hangouts, a spirited English pub in the evenings, and in the mornings, served some of the best food in town.
The morning flew by as friends caught up. In truth there was little new in any of their lives, since classes and studying took up most of their time, and they still chatted over the phone and when they played games together online. In truth it was as though they had not been apart at all during the semester. It was a little after four in the afternoon when Thomas was dropped off back home, the two having made plans to see eachother again the next day for a run.
As Thomas put his jacket on a hanger, he heard a noise coming from the kitchen. He walked from the entrance and into the dining room, and then into the kitchen, where his father stood at the counter, chopping potatoes and carrots. Thomas knew instantly that his father was preparing his favorite meal.