Cat didn’t want to wake up. She felt herself become conscious, slowly. First it was the warmth of someone’s arm on hers sliding away, leaving her gasping for the blanket that was haphazardly thrown on her. But the moment she moved, even just a little, her stomach flipped and flopped like she was on a rollercoaster, and her head began to throb beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She opened her eyes just slightly, to the blurry image of a blonde guy in dark swim trunks slowly stumbling out the door. Was that Cameron? Who was that?

But she shut her eyes tight and turned into her pillow, groaning to try and release some of the pressure behind her lids. But then came the realization she didn’t quite know how she got here, in this bed--not even the one Hannah pointed out to her before. This was just one of the random guest rooms, Cat figured as she squinted and looked around. A clock on the wall read that it was just past six thirty in the morning. The sun was just beginning to rise over the trees, red and pink across the patchy clouds. Beautiful view.

First, Cat surveyed her surroundings. Waking up next to someone left her with a slight panic, but she still had her bikini and shorts on, and there weren’t any clothes thrown around. It was very likely she just fell asleep beside Cameron. That was a relief.

Next, she stumbled slightly out of bed, careful to step lightly to avoid sending any extra pangs of agony through her skull. She just needed grease and water--that would make it all better. But she couldn’t get more than two steps in before she decided to just lay down on the bed and hope it would all stop soon.

Cat settled down with a pillow over her head, in a sort of Child’s Pose position on the side of the bed, and waited. How much time was she missing? Her last memory led her to sunset, during Drunk Jenga, and that was...nearly twelve hours ago.

The more she thought of the night, the more her head throbbed, but she was desperate to piece things together. She was semi-aware of ending up in a hot tub with a group of people--who, she couldn’t quite remember. Cam was one of them. He sat beside her, tried to get her to play Truth or Dare.

The memories hurt too much to think that far back, so Cat flopped onto her back and tried to relax more. She was among friends, and as far as she could tell, she didn’t have sex with anyone. How bad could the night have been if she was at least sure of those two things? And, if she didn’t vomit in the pool, the night could be considered a success.

This was also one of the most comfortable beds she’d even had the pleasure of sleeping on. Just soft enough, not too much firmness in the mattress, with lumbar support and down pillows. Sitting here, for just a while, made her mind hurt just a little less.

Flashes of the night, or a dream, started to come back to her. She didn’t know which it was...though with the sight of Cameron walking out the door waking her up, it was maybe a mixture of both. His hands on either side of her face, half-tangled in her hair, pressing against her with such fire, such a longing, breathing hard and desperate….

She vaguely remembered stumbling up the stairs with him, taking at least two breaks to just sit him down and straddle him, to steal his lips and kiss his neck. He grabbed for her as if she was some sort of life force, stroked her skin with such gentle ferocity that she couldn’t keep her nails from digging into his back.

“Fuck,” he groaned through her kiss. And he flipped her over, the edges of the stairs pressing into her back. Hot and fast, yet gentle between bouts of unbridled desire, the pressure of the steps against her kidneys released when his large arms scooped her up off of them to carry her up the rest of the way. She clenched her legs around his waist, eager to feel every part of him against her. Every inch that separated them physically pained her. The only reprieve was his hungry mouth, his eager hands….

Cat ran out of breath just thinking of it, but let the memories fade. Damn. So that was why Cam was a serial-dater. He was--that was incredible. She’d never felt so wanted, never had a feeling like that linger for longer than a momentary kiss. But his lips, the aftertaste of lime from tequila shots, the absence of it left her hyper-aware of how much colder she was without it. Good Lord, did she need to get that back.

Abandoning the hope of sleeping any more, Cat took the pillow off of her face and willed herself to stand, hangover be damned. And so, step by step, she slowly, achingly, made her way downstairs toward the kitchen.

Hannah sat slumped at the bar stool holding a bottle of Aspirin in one hand, and her head in the other. Cam sat beside her with his hands in his arms. Cat was about to announce her presence, but the sliding door to the back door opened again, and Peter stepped himside, tugging the bottom of his slight-wet shirt.

“Where’s mine?” she asked, pointing at his chest. He looked like he was in a ton of pain, his hair matted on one side and his steps gentle and soft. She tried not to smile.

“Your what?”

“My shirt. You were the last one to have it. Or wear it. When did you get yours back?”

“You left it on a raft in the middle of the pool.” His voice was less than gentle, obviously bitter that he had to sleep outside or whatever. There were worse places to sleep than in a luxury backyard.

“Should have put it at the bottom of the pool so you’d maybe drown while trying to get it.”

“Shhhhhh!” came a voice from somewhere behind Cat. When she spun around, Kelsey stumbled in, still in her tank top and jeans from yesterday. “No shouting.”

“Where’s my shirt?” she repeated in a whisper to her friend.

“Iunno. Hannah, is that Advil?” Hannah shook the bottle of pills in response.

“Just waiting for it to kick in. Who else?”

Peter, Kelsey and Cat all responded at the exact same time, with various forms of “oh god, please.”

They conglomerated around the island counter, Cat stealing the barstool beside Cameron, and accepted the pills and glasses of water that Peter filled up at the sink.

Cat took her share, then sighed as the cold water slid down her throat. Maybe it was psychosomatic, but she already felt better.

“So,” she started, unable to handle the silence, “who took my virginity last night?” She expected laughter. She didn’t think Peter would immediately start choking on his Advil, to the point of having to spit it out in the sink, and she didn’t anticipate her friends to have horrified expressions on their faces. “It was a joke, Jesus.” Though now it made her wonder if she was the only one missing time.

“Christ, Cat,” Hannah sounded through her nervous laughter. Peter recovered, coughing into his arm, and rejoined them at the island bar. Damn, nearly killed him, too. That would have been efficient. “Couldn’t handle that sort of pressure, being responsible for something like that.”

“Don’t worry, no virgin here.” Cat scrunched her brows together. “Did we sleep together?”

“No, but anything that happens under my roof is my…. Wait. Do you not remember the whole night?” The horror from the trio melted to something much more mischievous, and Cat shrunk into her seat. At least Peter seemed as borderline worried as she was.

“Um...not...not really. I’ve never--that was a lot.” Her laugh came out a lot more nervous than she thought it would. The group leaned in, though Peter retreated to the sink for more water. He was still clearing his throat, struggling to recover from choking on pills. Maybe that was why he didn’t heckle her for not holding her liquor better.

“Do you remember losing Jenga?” Cam asked immediately, seemingly excited. Cat nodded slowly.

“Do you remember the hot tub?” Kelsey asked this time. Cat shrugged.

“Not...not really.”

Hannah leaned forward even more, her joy almost palpable as she slapped the counter in time with her words. “Do you remember...punching Peter?” Every slap sent a sharp pang through Cat’s skull.

“I what?” Now she could tell why everyone was so fired up. Apparently the night was a lot more exciting than she thought.

“Do you remember getting punched by Cat, Peter?" Hannah nearly shouted, but no one yelled at her. Peter suddenly looked a lot smaller by the sink as he leaned against it, seemingly uncomfortable. She kept emphasizing “punch” weird.

“Must not have been a very hard punch if I don’t.” God, was she that bad at it? She never punched anyone before. She was a little sad that her first actual attempt at getting Peter to shut up went unremembered.

“Asshole,” Cat spat, rolling her eyes. Her friends immediately seemed to roar in excitement and laughter, animating for the first time this morning despite the alcoholic consequences.

“This is great!” Cameron laughed a little too hard, clutching his water and unable to stop to drink it despite his many attempts. Cat groaned at the pressure of her head, and waved for him to simmer down.

“Did we make out last night?” Cat asked him suddenly, more to get him to stop laughing. Cam nodded and sobered.

“That happened, yeah.” Though she didn’t see any scratch marks on his back. That part must have been a dream.

“Okay.” She shrugged. “I guess I remember something.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!” If it got him to stop being loud, she’d take it.

The rest of the morning was rough. The Advil took its time to kick in, and she still had some final preparations for her presentation tonight.

To make matters worse, her half-dream-makeout-session with Cam kept swimming in her mind, and it made it incredibly difficult to focus on her notes. And with Hannah house sitting for the whole weekend, there wasn’t anyone to hold her accountable. But this was her first presentation--she had to knock it out of the park.

God, she was so distracted. Every other minute went from writing a few notes down about her sources to sitting, slumped at her desk with her head full of dizzying images from last night. Real or fake, this was--this was out of hand. After his presentation, she needed to find Cameron and...well, she didn’t know what she would do. But she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with talking. At least to get this feeling out of her system.

At exactly six sharp, she stood at the front of the classroom with notes in her hand. She dressed up a little with a plain, black dress, and she was relieved to see that Peter abandoned his usual button-down with slacks getup in favor of jeans and a regular tee. Casual Fridays extended to people with sticks up their asses, apparently.

The debate started off fine enough. Cat couldn’t get herself to stop shaking and staring at the clock. Every time she timed herself when preparing, she went over. But now that she presented, she went under the minimum time requirements. Was she talking too fast? She sounded like she was talking too fast to herself.

She was hardly aware of anything Peter said. After the first set of arguments, they were given two minutes to finalize their rebuttals. Cat sat in a chair off to the side of the room and read her notes over and over again, but her opponent sat there and fiddled with his phone. For a brief moment, Cat thought that maybe things would go okay.

Peter went first. She should have known. She should have sensed that this was going too well at the start. Now he stood up there with a suppressed smirk, looking to the crowd with a newfound confidence she didn’t expect.

Peter smiled when he presented. “I have already provided substantial current and cutting-edge evidence to prove the scientific fact that video games do not cause aggression. The opposition has provided outdated and unreliable sources to try and trick you into thinking playing video games causes aggression. The Newman and Hart study, whom my opponent uses for almost every point, was published in 1996. Funny thing about that study, too, is that it as actually just a paper on a study that was done by Theodore Patriot in 1994, who initially conducted to study to prove video games and aggression were unrelated. Newman and Hart bastardized their analysis to try and manipulate readers into sharing their incorrect assumption, not unlike my uneducated opponent, here.”

“Excuse me?” Cat blurted out.

“One at a time,” the professor mumbled from her desk. Was she going to let that slide?

Peter finally looked at Cat, calm and collected. “What would you like me to repeat? The explanation about how your main source is a simple Google-search away from becoming a moot point or the bit about you being too uneducated to use Google?” Suddenly, the class was silent. Any whispered conversations amongst friends went completely static, and everyone finally paid attention.

“Continue with your--” Before Professor Harlem could move Peter along, Cat grit her teeth and interrupted her. The chair scraped against the floor when she stood.

“First of all, the Patriot study went on as inconclusive, and Newman and Hart’s analysis were valid for the time they were being made!” Her hands were shaking. To prevent the note cards from waving attention to her fury, she clenched them into her fists.

“‘For the time’ meaning ancient and out-dated.” Peter now addressed the audience as if he was on some sort of talk show, being interviewed. The gall!

“We knew coming into this that video games don’t cause aggression. The sources I’m using are as recent as they come for those claims, and despite your lack of etiquette for debate rules, I never attacked your character--or lack thereof!”

“Enough!” Again, Professor Harlem fell on deaf ears.

“So one, you are wasting everyone’s time by debating something that already has an agreed-upon answer, and two, you blame your inability to research on--”

Professor Harlem now stood at her desk, and Cat noticed her for maybe the first time since the debate started. “I said to shut up!”

She decided to change tactics. “Professor, I approached Peter when this was assigned to try and work together on this, like you said, but he brushed me off and is clearly incapable of working together--”

Now Peter looked shocked, as if talking to the professor was out of line. “Like you said, we agreed that I was right in the first place--”

“If you two don’t leave my classroom right now, I’m failing both of you!” A high-pitched whine filled Cat’s ears. Her vision blurred from the rage; she could hardly see anything, could hardly tell that she reached for her bag at her feet and started her way to outside. Kicked out of a class! Never, in her entire life, had she ever been kicked out of class for anything.

The crisp air of the evening didn’t sting her, nor the blinding light of the setting sun. She started stalking her way toward her dorm building, but to her immense luck, Peter lived there, too, and he was headed in the same direction.

“You’re such a fucking prick!” she screamed after only a minute of walking across a large pass of grass. Peter wasn’t far behind her, but seemed taken aback when she spun around to point up at his stupid face and his stupid perfect eyebrows that cocked at her when she yelled.

“Name-calling?”

"Uneducated?” she quoted with her fingers. “You couldn’t put your stupid ego aside for five fucking minutes, you have to sit there and insult me in front of the entire class--!”

“It’s not insulting if I literally found a fatal flaw in your arguments by Googling with my phone during the break.” He held the shiny thing in his hand, taunting her, mocking her brick of a phone made in 2009.

Cat growled, “If you just worked with me from the beginning, we could have shared sources and had a real debate--”

“You’re just mad that you looked like an idiot--”

“Yes! Because you sat there and made me look like an idiot--”

Peter scoffed at her and crossed his arms. “I didn’t make you look like anything! You did that all on your own--”

Cat felt herself explode. “Oh my god! Shut up! You’re the one that started mudslinging all over the damn debate!”

"Mudslinging? What are you, from the eighteen hundreds? I was following the guidelines, I stayed within the rules--”

“Since when is acting like a two-year-old in the rules?”

It was Peter’s turn to blow up, now. He stepped forward fast enough to make her stumble back, his arms out to his sides, his head craned down to challenge her. Cat’s heart slammed hard against her chest, but she didn’t let herself step back more than once. He was trying to intimidate her. Well, it wasn’t going to work. The heat in her stomach was enough to make her feel ten feet tall; she would not be the first to back down.

“You need to grow up!” he shouted at her finally. “The real world isn’t going to do all the work for you and just hand you everything on a silver platter!” Like he had any idea what hard work was!

Cat resisted the urge to stop her foot like a child. “You would know about getting handed everything, wouldn’t you? Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, someone to clean up after you every day--”

For a split second, Peter looked confused, but his anger burned through his expression. “You don’t know anything about me! Stop pretending like you know it all, because you’re just some judgmental--”

“I know a spoiled brat when I see one!”

Peter put his hands on the side of his face, his fingers straining to stop from pulling at his hair, until finally he threw his hands down and stepped back from her, surrendering. She’d won.

“You know what? How about you just avoid me from now on and I’ll do the same, okay?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, and instead shoved past her in the direction of their dorm building.

“My pleasure!” she shouted after him.