Something smelled wrong. The first indicator that Layla was not in a familiar place. She groaned and shifted, turning her face and realizing that the sheets scratched in a foreign way. One blue eye opened to a narrow slit, her eyelashes obstructing the view of her surroundings. The light was coming from the wrong direction. She closed it again, a quiet whine disappearing into the mattress.

The first pulses of a throbbing headache seemed a minor annoyance in comparison to the rest of it. Uncertain of where she was or who she was with. How much had she had to drink? Her fingers twitched against the mattress, straightening from their position as part of a balled fist to keep track of her count. The bottle of wine over the course of dinner with school friends, another two beers over the course of the online game of Never Have I Ever once she arrived home, and then . . .. And then she had gone out to the bar where the school friends had said they would be. Two rounds of shots and then blackness.

Now it was time for more important and immediate figuring. Where was she? How was she getting home? She shifted her body in place, a learned means of fact-finding. The cheap sheets scratched against her thighs and her stomach, but not her chest or her pelvis. Underwear and some sort of top still in place. A realization that brought a sigh of relief. She delved deeper in her stock taking. Her lips felt raw and swollen, but she was pretty sure there hadn't been actual sex. Good.

Her movements were deliberately slow; mostly to avoid upsetting her stomach or the blooming headache, partially as not to disturb her bedfellow if she had one. On her feet at the side of the bed, she looked him over, bending to catch a glimpse of the profile. No one she recognized. Great. A sarcastic self-admonishment. At least it appeared all her belongings were clustered in a single corner. She pulled on her pants and tossed her bag and sweater over her shoulder, digging for her phone and pulling up Uber as she made her way towards the front door.

"Morning, Lala."

Her eyes went wide, heat filling her cheeks as she stopped her trek to the front door midway through the living room and turned towards the voice. Another boy she didn't recognize. "Mornin'" It was an embarassed mutter, her cheeks burning a bright pink, the rush of blood fueling the throbbing behind her eyebrows. She made no further comment, heading downstairs and into the air to squint against the sun while she waited for her ride.