I'm rating this one T because of a few bad words here and there and of course the implication of what MIGHT have went down.
The light coming through the slim gap in the window curtains was intense. Too intense for the headache Sam was sporting. She pulled the covers over her head to block the light, but the instant anything touched her skull, waves of pain shot through her like arrows.
"Gaaah! So this is what a hangover feels like?" She mumbled to herself. "Well, Mom tried to warn me. Just another hour or two and I'll feel better" She settled into the soft, flannel sheets that rubbed over her naked body preparing to drift off to dreamland once again.
The fabric tickled her hips as she snuggled her face into the big, fluffy pillow under her blonde head. "Wonder whose bed I'm in?" She thought for a moment, completely forgetting the fact that she was nude, before opening an eye and searching the room for any clue as to where she was. Her eyes attempted to focus on the blue numbers of the clock sitting on the bedside table. 11:53. "AM or PM?" She said aloud to the clock. "Dumass!"
Next, her blue eyes came to bear on the outline of a gigantic egg made of egg cartons sitting in the one corner. "Hah, that looks like the thing Spencer made for the art show last fall." She thought to herself. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked around the room a bit more. The light cut into her eyes like a knife but it helped illuminate some of her surroundings. There was a wardrobe with both doors standing open, men's clothing hanging on every conceivable part of it. Sweatshirts and jeans, jogging shorts and t-shirts, even a tuxedo hung neatly on a clothes tree beside the tall cupboard. Yes, this was clearly a man's room.
"Shit!" She mumbled, still not realizing where she was. She rolled over onto her back and the bed clothes rubbed over her bare breasts. Suddenly it dawned on her that she was as naked as the day she was born, in a strange man's bed. "Shit!" She repeated a little louder before a sudden ache hit a certain part of her lower body. "Ah, man, what the fudge did I do?"
Flashback to the evening before:
Carly and Spencer had thrown a huge graduation party for all her friends. By eight o'clock there were dozens of teenagers laughing, dancing and having a great time. For many, this would be one of their last chances to be together. College would separate them in just a short while. Even before that, several were heading off to summer internships and a few would soon be leaving for boot camp.
Sam and Freddie had still not gotten back together. In fact, he seemed to have been quite chummy with a certain red head named Wendy ever since their senior class trip. Sam watched on as the two talked quietly away from the majority of the crowd at the party. If she had to put a description on it, jealousy would come to mind. Then again, so would contempt and utter disgust. While Sam found her relationship with Wendy to be that of a friend by times, she had a side that Sam could not stand. Namely her gossipy, nosey side that meant she always seemed to know everyone else's business but kept hers under lock and key.
Freddie and Wendy weren't dating, at least not that she knew. They just seemed to be spending more time together than Sam would prefer. Freddie was her nub, her punching bag, her second best friend, the one and only boy she ever truly had any feelings for and most importantly the one person on the face of the Earth she could confide in. If he and Wendy were chummy, there was no way he was going to hear any more of her deep, dark secret feelings for fear they'd be common knowledge within hours.
Sam herself had not managed to find a steady boyfriend since Freddie. She did date here and there, but not seriously. It didn't help matters any that most of the guys in their class were either afraid of her or found her to be boorish and crude. The only reason she even had a 'date' for the prom was because she agreed to go along with Carly, Freddie and the rest of their crew and wound up hanging out with Gibby of all people because his girlfriend ended up coming down with food poisoning the day of the big event. She had fun but there were never any feeling for the big boy other than what could only be described as her own twisted version of friendship.
Of course, Spencer was also at the party and he had invited a few of his friends. Why not, he was paying for the event after all. His best buddy Socko was there along with a couple of other guys and a few girls close to their age. For the major part the twenty-somethings gave the teens their space and contented themselves with more 'mature conversation and activities'. One of the girls, a devilish kind of raven-haired friend of Socko's cousin managed to slip in some 'adult beverages' much to Spencer's objection.
It didn't take long for the teens came to realize there was alcohol to be had and one by one they began to slip a few shots in. Sam was no exception. Despite her mother's warnings about it, and Carly's adamant objections, she decided to give it a try. The first drink she had was rum. It tasted sweet and alcohol-y at the same time. She went back for another but there was none to be had. Next she tried vodka, but ended up choking and making a fool out of herself until a classmate turned her on to bourbon. It wasn't a good as the rum, but it was a close second and as anyone would expect, Sam attempted to overdo it. She didn't simply drink shot after shot, she paced herself, but despite her small size she was poised to put away at least a fifth all by herself.
Somewhere around the sixth or seventh drink, Carly caught up with her and attempted to admonish her for drinking. Sam rolled her eyes, said she could handle herself and thought no more about it.
Realizing she wasn't going to dissuade her friend from the liquor, Carly began to yammer on about some guy she had suddenly developed a crush on. Sam began to glare at her ex-boyfriend and the gossip queen of Ridgeway from across the room. The alcohol now coursing through her veins not only gave her an enhanced sense of entitlement but it also began to cloud her judgment.
"Check out Fred-stud over there chatting up little Miss Busy-Body." She nodded toward them. "Guess he's got a case of ginger-itis." Sam snorted a laugh. "Get it? Ginger-itis, 'cause she's a ginger. I wonder of those freckles are all over?"
Carly knew she wouldn't normally say something like that about Wendy. "No more booze, Sam." Carly repeated. "You're going to end up saying or doing something you'll regret. Or at least hurling into the only house plant my brother hasn't managed to kill."
"Fine. Mom." Sam huffed, having no intention of following suit. Carly again began to talk about the guy she was swooning over and Sam's attention faded away. How could she get Freddie's attention? How could she get him to come over and talk to her and save her from this horrible conversation about David or Darren or Dickey or what the frick ever his name was. But more importantly how could she get him away from that damn redhead that he had been glued to for the last hour.
She glanced around the room and spotted Spencer dancing with one of the girls his own age that Socko brought along. The blonde sauntered over to him and asked to cut in. Spencer stammered a bit of an un-answer as the older female moved away. Maybe if Freddie saw them dancing it would make him jealous and he'd come over to her.
"Relax, dude. I'm not trying to make a move on you, I just want to dance. I think." She said with a wink. She knew the liquor was making her feel funny, down there, but she didn't think she'd ever do anything about it, especially with Spencer.
Deep down inside, she thought of Spencer as a brother and at the moment he was merely a means to the end of making Freddie jealous. The tech producer knew that in her younger days she had a crush on the artist and she knew that he knew that. But Spencer did smell good. "Say, what kind of cologne is that? You really smell nice, it kind of turns me on." She spoke seductively and stroked his forearm before she realized what she was doing and immediately blushed.
"Uh, Sam, have you been drinking?" The tall man asked. "I'm really not comfortable with you kids using alcohol. I know I'm not the most responsible adult in the world but even I know this is illegal. And honestly I could end up in jail for hosting this little shin dig if one of you gets into trouble or some chiz."
"Aw, chill, Spencer. No one here's driving home and you know I'm not going to be giving out hummers in the elevator or anything. It's not like I'm wasted. Yet." She snickered and gave him a flirty look, though she didn't know why.
Sam made her way back to the drink table and got another shot or whiskey. And then another. She didn't see Freddie, Carly, or any of her classmates after that, at least not that she could remember. There was a vague recollection of Spencer and the girl he had been dancing with earlier arguing about something and the older, busty female with short, dark hair leaving in a huff.
End of flashback.
Sam stood, or rather attempted to stand and stumbled backwards onto the bed where she discovered several pieces of her clothing. She slipped on the shirt she remembered wearing last night to cover her upper body. On the floor beside the bed she spotted her bra and underwear. She quickly slipped the light blue boy-shorts over her legs and pulled them up over her apple shaped bottom, holding the bra in her left hand before saying "Screw it." to the lacy black, under wire laden device and dropping it back onto the floor. "Some dude gets a souvenir, I didn't like that one anyway."
She had to find pants, she certainly wasn't going anywhere in just her panties so she began a more frantic search. Managing to stand, this time with the assistance of the wall, she took a couple of shaky steps toward the window. Hanging on the back of the desk chair she found what she believed to be her pants, neatly folded and draped properly. How did they get there? And why the hell were they folded?
Feeling a sudden wave of nausea, she took a seat on the desk chair, grabbed the nearby trash can and after dumping out it's contents onto the floor, threw up into it. "Key-rist, I've never puked so much in my life." She grumbled a few minutes later, hanging her head between her knees. On the floor, among the litter she dumped out of the wastebasket earlier, she spotted something that made her cringe, a used condom. And another, and another. "Gross!"
That dull ache in a certain part of her body made her wonder exactly how the person, or people, who used the condoms felt. And why she felt funny down there, there was no explaining. It definitely felt like something happened that had never happened before.
She pulled the pants on and when she stood to button them she glanced at the desk and saw something that made her heart stop. A picture of Carly in her graduation gown. "Holy frickin' crap!" She gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth. "This is Spencer's room." She had only ever been in there at night to film 'Wake up Spencer' segments and really didn't look around much at the time, but it was starting to look familiar.
As she tried to compose herself, bits and pieces of the previous night began to run through her aching brain. There was the dance they shared, how good he smelled, him scolding her for drinking and then an image of a kiss. A kiss with her best friend's older brother. "No. No. No. No." She chanted. "This isn't happening. I did not do anything with him."
Another flashback popped into her mind, Spencer holding her bridal style and carrying her back the hallway while she flirted with him and ran her hands through his hair. "Oh God, this is not happening!"
Now a memory of him laying her down on the bed and standing there folding up her pants and carefully draping them over the chair back. "Holy frickin' crap! I screwed Spencer! Three times, apparently!"
What else could have happened? Her legs were sore and shaky, there were the sketchy memories of last evening's events and three used rubbers in the can. Not to mention waking up naked in his damn bed. And then there was the feeling in her crotch like she had been kicked by a mule.
"Oh my God! Oh my God!" She began to panic as she thought about now having to do the 'walk of shame' out of the bedroom. Maybe if she could make her way to the living room it would look like she simply spent the night on the sofa. After all, she slept there more often than her own house. That might work, if she could make it to the couch, Carly would have no clue about this. And she sure as hell wasn't going to tell her.
After another round of throwing up, she tried her best to compose herself. Looking into the mirror on the back of the door, she realized her hair was a mess and ran her hands through it in an attempt to make it more presentable. Opening the bedroom door slowly, she listened and panicked once more. The TV was on, and it sounded like Girly Cow. That could mean only one thing. Carly! Then a guy's voice. Freddie! "Son of a . . . " She muttered. "They're both sitting out there, laying in wait for me to come out. And if he's here, Wendy's not far away. Shit, the whole world will know about this in an hour!" But where was Spencer, more than anyone she wanted to avoid him.
An even better question was how the hell was she going to get out of there without being spotted. Maybe she could sneak out while they were watching the show. If she could make it to the stairs, she could quietly crash in the studio to gather her thoughts. Maybe even use the private elevator to get out of the apartment altogether. There was also the back door in the kitchen. Yes! That would work, she could slink along the kitchen floor like a snake and slip out the back door.
Carefully, quietly, she opened the bedroom door wide and slid along the wall toward the main living area of the apartment. Twenty feet, eighteen, fifteen, now only twelve feet and she could duck under the stairs. Then a short pop around the corner on her belly to the kitchen and the sanctuary of the counter. With one eye glued on the back of her friends' heads sitting on the couch, she tip-toed to the back side of the steps. She was just thankful only Carly and Freddie were present. Maybe Spencer was doing something with one of his own friends.
Carly and Freddie were silent and staring at the screen. She would have made it, had it not been for Spencer himself opening the main apartment door and coming in with Mrs. Benson on his heels. Sam froze in place, praying she could camouflage herself into the surroundings like a chameleon.
"I should have you thrown in jail, you hooligan. What kind of adult provides alcohol for teenagers. You are a disgrace, Spencer. Do you realize if any of those children got into an accident on the way home or anything you would be held accountable?"
"And everyone who had been drinking stayed, Marissa." He argued. "This place looked like Jonestown by daybreak with all the kids laying around. And why are you all worked up, anyway? It's not like Freddie drank more than root beer last evening."
"Root beer!" She gasped and clutched her chest, like he had been hitting the Scotch.
"Yes, root beer. You should really be proud of Freddie. He was the only responsible teenager here. Even Carly drank." He shot a dirty look toward his sister before spotting the blonde. "Oh, hey Sam. Finally got up, I see."
"Hey, Sam. How's your head?" Carly asked, turning around to face her friend. "Mine's killing me, I can't imagine how you must feel as plowed as you were."
Freddie stood up and began to approach and it was more than she could take. If he ever found out that she hooked up with Spencer, her life was over. First off, that big mouthed Wendy would find out about it, plus he would never have enough respect for her in order to date her ever again, something she had been hoping for since they broke up a year and a half ago. Without saying a word, Sam bolted from the apartment, out the main door like she was on fire. She didn't know what else to do or where to go. All she knew was she wouldn't be able to face her friends ever again.
"What's eating her?" Freddie shrugged and walked up to his mother. "C'mon, Mom. I think we need to let Carly and Spencer have a little talk." Deep down inside there was another reason he was worried about Sam, but he couldn't tip that hand in from of his mother.
"This isn't over, Spencer." Marissa huffed and pointed her slender finger to the artist as Freddie motioned her toward the door. "I am going to have strong words at the tenant's committee meeting about this situation."
Freddie held his mother's arm and led her away. "Honestly, Mom. What's the big deal? Like he said, it's not like I drank anything stronger than soda."
"Exactly! You know how I feel about sugary drinks!"
As soon as the Bensons left, Carly admonished her brother. "Mrs. Benson's right, you know?"
"Excuse me!" Spencer glared at her. "I wasn't the minor who was drinking. In fact, I didn't touch a drop. Sure, Socko and I might have went up to the roof to fire up a . . . um, you know what, never mind."
"So I tried a little alcohol. I had, like, two drinks and this is a lesson, believe me. I swear on this pounding headache, it cured me of drinking. I just wonder how poor Sam is feeling. She was completely sloshed."
"Tell me about it, she tried to kiss me!" Spencer snipped. "And Brad and I think maybe even Tasha before finally honing in on Freddie."
"Yeah, who would have thought drunk Sam equals frisky Sam." Carly giggled. "At least you didn't spend the night beside her. It only took her about ten seconds to lose all her clothes as soon as you left the room, let me tell you. I was afraid she was going to molest me in my sleep and she probably would have tried if she didn't pass out."
"Speaking of which, did you ever figure out who locked you out of your bedroom?"
"Yes, Tasha texted me. It was her and Gibby. By the way, I need to burn my mattress."
Spencer just shivered at the thought.
"Did you ever hear back from Monica?" Carly asked her brother.
"No. And I doubt I ever will. She was totally wazzed off when she saw Sam try to lay that kiss on me. I mean, first off, I'm not interested in Sam, she's young enough to be my sister. And second Monica and I weren't exclusive. That should have been obvious earlier in the evening when Socko and I . . . um, never mind."
"I don't even want to know." She shook her head.
Alright, so what did Sam do and who did she do it with?