Tequila Mockingbird.

Oh my God, I have a killer headache.  I open my eyes and I realize that I didn't make it home. Ugh crap, I'm in his bed.  Speaking of, where is he?  And how much did I actually drink last night?  I guess a lot if I don't remember how I ended up here. Shit. I had a tab running, did I even get my credit card back?  I see my purse so I grab it and I rummage through it for my wallet.  I find my wallet and my credit card is there, thank God.

I walk into his bathroom and I realize that I'm not wearing what I wore last night.  I'm in one of his shirts.  I sheepishly smile.  Mhmm, it smells like him. Where are my clothes anyway?  Last night is such a blur.

I hear keys jingle, and the lock click.  He's back.

I squeeze some toothpaste on his toothbrush, stick it in my mouth and brush my teeth.  By the time I finish brushing my teeth, he's standing at the doorway of the bathroom, looking at me.

"Good afternoon, my little lush." He says, while we move back to his bedroom.

I blush. "It's already the afternoon? Oh boy."

"Oh boy is right.  It is the afternoon.  Do you remember anything from last night?"  He asks.


"Hmm, no." I can't even look him in the eye when I answer him.  I know he took care of me last night.  But I really can't remember anything but starting off my night was a tequila shot.  Ugh, I probably made some bad decisions.  I'm feeling a little woozy, so I sit on the bed.  He sits down next to me.

"Well let me remind you.  I remember telling you to be safe when you called me after work last night and also to get home at a reasonable time.  But I got a lovely phone call from you at 1am.  You were giggling when I picked up all groggy from being asleep.  You asked what I was doing and I said sleeping.  You proceeded to call me an old fart for being asleep on a Friday night.  I asked where you were and you said at the biergarten on 14th.  Then you hung up on me.  I tried to call you back, but you wouldn't pick up.  I got dressed and I got to the biergarten to see you and to make sure you were okay to get home.  I got there and found you, you were overtly excited to see me, LIT in hand.  I asked you how many drinks you've had.  Instead of answering me, you smiled and drank what's left of your LIT.  You walk to the bar and order a round of tequila shots for us and your friends.  I didn't do the shot and you proceeded to call me a wimp and did my shot.  10 minutes later, you ran to the bathroom, where I followed you and proceeded to heave up everything.  I held your hair and you fell limp so I picked you up.  I carried you to the bar and asked if you could stand for a 2 minutes and you said that you could.  I asked the bartender to close your tab.  They asked me if I wanted to charge the card that was given and I said I didn't and I paid out your tab.  I picked you up again, you passed out and I hailed a taxi back to my place.  And here we are, 12 hours later."

Oh, the pieces are coming back together.  I can't believe I called him at 1 am.  And I was drinking LITs, I hate LITs.  Did he just say that he paid my tab? What?

"Why did you pay my tab? You didn't even have a drink and my tab was probably a lot.  What's wrong with you?"  I say back to him defensively.  I wanted to go out last night to have fun and by the looks of it I did.  I could've gotten home safely.  Ugh overprotective jerk.

With one eyebrow raised, he says "Yes your tab was expensive.  To top it off, you are quite a lush. And I paid it because you could barely stand up for the 2 minutes, I wasn't going to have you stand, tip, and sign at the risk of you collapsing on the floor."

"Oh.  Well how much do I owe you? I have money on me."

"I don't think you have that much money on you."

"Well tell me how much, and I'll see."

"$350."

My eye bulged out, I couldn't have heard that number right.  I think back hard, trying to remember how many drinks I had.  I honestly can't remember. Crap. Fuck. Shit. I cannot believe this. I cringe. "Did you just say $350?"

"Yes I did and that's not including the cab fare."  He grabs my purse and says "So can you fork up the bill now, or do you have a IOU for me?"

I gulp and look at my feet "I don't have it."

"I didn't think so.  I also remember telling you to get home safe and at a reasonable time.  Had I not shown up, how were you going to get home?" he rhetorically asks.

"But in my drunken stupor, I called my wonderful boyfriend, who I woke up from sleeping.  And he got dressed to see if I was okay.  He saw that I wasn't and took care of me." I smile and say to him, trying to soften him up.  But all he does is give me a look, the I-know-what-you're-trying-to-do look.

"Oh, what am I going to do with you? I know." And he pulls me over his lap.

This has got to be the worst place to be when I'm nursing the hangover from hell.  "Babe, please I'll make better choices next time.  My stomach is sour and I have the worst headache of my life.  Can we please do this later?"  I plead.

His response was a quick "No." and he pulls my panties right off.