Shit, my head is pounding. Why did I leave the curtains open? The sun peeking through the curtains is going to fry off my corneas. I should not have drank that much. Everything is a blur. It's all snapshots of shots, strobe lights, laughter, and more shots. I seriously need to lay off partying for a while.

A groan from beside me nearly startles the hangover straight out of me. Yeah, I really need to lay off the partying. I hesitantly turn to gauge the groaning perpetrator, my throbbing brain protests the action.

You slowly peel yourself from the bed as I watch, holding the sheet to your chest to conceal yourself. All I see is your bare back and your messy hair cascading down it. Is that... Is that a hickey on your shoulder blade? Did I do that? Oh god. I don't even remember flirting with anyone last night. Let alone flirt enough to be able to convince them to come back to my place! You must've been pretty wasted too. I shift a little in the bed and your head whips around to stare back at me, as if you didn't even know I was here.

"Oh, fuck." You practically whisper. But your eyes, though half-lidded and slightly dazed, force a surge of memories to flood through me. Between the shots, you were there, daring me to take one more. In the strobe lights, you were there, throwing shapes like no one was watching. The laughter, it was from something stupid you said.

So, if I had spent the entire night with you, and brought you back to my place, why can't I remember your name?

"Hey..." I finally speak, pathetically. But I've taken on that characteristic proudly.