If anyone happened to walk into my living room, they would take one look at me and assume I was dying. And I felt like it. I was lying on my couch, an ice pack on my head, a bucket next to me just in case I need it, curled up in a ball and slightly groaning. I told my parents I had the flu, but I think they might have had an inkling of an idea by the flu I meant I was up all night drinking so hard that yesterday is a complete blank to me. But they were pretty cool about this kind of thing, so they told me they hoped I felt better from "the flu" soon.
I groaned again as another wave of nausea rolled through me, this time thankfully not making me have to reach for the bucket. Why had I decided to do this last night? What light bulb popped over my head and made me say 'Hey, I think I'll drink myself to oblivion tonight so I can be completely hung over tomorrow!' Whatever it was, I wanted to punch it in the face.
The phone rang next to me, making my head throb even worse. I let it ring twice, and since nobody seemed to be coming for the phone I grabbed it to make the noise stop. I checked the caller ID and saw a cell phone number that I didn't know. Figuring it was a wrong number, I answered the phone, thinking I would send some wary person on the right path.
"Hello?" I said into the phone, my voice cracking with the one word.
"Hi, may I speak to Isabelle Turner please?" the voice replied back, a guy's voice that didn't sound much older than me.
"This is she," I said, slightly confused but still keeping my on the phone politeness.
"Hi, Isabelle. Um, I know this is going to sound really strange, but would you mind meeting me somewhere? Public, if you like."
Huh? "Who is this?"
"I could tell you my name, but it's not going to mean anything to you. Yours didn't mean anything to me until about half an hour ago."
"Ok. My name is Adam Long."
For some reason, as soon as I heard that name a snapshot of me boinging a dirty blond curl popped into my head. As strange and random as that was, it somehow made me feel safer talking to this possible stalker/psycho serial killer. And so I said, "Look, Adam. Can we save this meeting for tomorrow? I'm not in the best of places right n-"
"I know you're really hung over," Adam interrupted, and now I was slightly freaked out, snapshot of boinging a curl or not. "I'm really hung over too, trust me. But this is really important. Do you want me to come to your house? Will that make this easier?"
If Adam really was someone to be scared of, my parents and older brother were here if I screamed. So I guess it would be ok for him to come over, as awkward as this was. But there was one thing I had to know first. A very important thing, in fact.
"Ok, Adam. Just answer two questions first: how do you know who I am and why do you need to talk to me so badly?"
"Because I have a videotape of us together last night."
I dropped the phone. When I picked it up again, I said, "Why didn't you say that in the first place?"
"Um, I dunno?"
I rolled my eyes. "Good job, Einstein. Well here's my address..." I gave it to him, and we hung up and I tried to digest what had just happened in the amount of time I had before Adam came over. It didn't work too well. It just made my head hurt even more. I didn't know that was possible.
I took another aspirin and then got changed out of my pajamas into something at least semi-cute, to see this boy I had apparently spent the night with. I wasn't even considering what exactly could have happened in that night and if the repercussions of that could be a little baby Isabelle and Adam. I didn't think that had happened, though. I was going to trust the a girl would always know when that happens rule. Besides, even if Adam was dumb enough to not tell me right away the reason he wanted to meet, I think the situation would have been a little different if we were together in that way.
As I started freaking out again, the doorbell rang. I yelled to anyone who cared that I would get it, and then ran to the door as fast as my ailing body would let me. I opened the door to reveal a nervous-looking boy with dirty blond curls, which explained the boinging a curl thing, holding a videotape.
"I take it you're Adam," I said to him, trying not to sound too cold but failing.
He nodded, biting his lower lip in a kind of cute way. "And you're Isabelle. You definitely look...less drunk than you do in the video."
"I'm going to take that as a compliment. Come on in." I moved out of the doorway to allow him to come in, and he did. I closed the door and, the good manner instilled in me coming out, said, "Do you want something to drink?"
"No thanks. L-let's just watch the video, I guess."
I led him to the living room, and he placed the tape in our VCR player. Then, he took a deep breath and pressed play. We both sat down on the couch, on opposite sides of each other with a whole cushion between us, and watched.
The video started to reveal a dark room, what I assumed with a bedroom since I could make out the shape of a dark bed. Great.
I couldn't take the suspense anymore, so I turned to Adam and began to ask, "Do we-"
"No," he replied, not looking at me.
My butterflies flew away and I gave a sigh of relief. "Ok."
With that worry gone, I was free to focus on the video. Now it was showing someone adjusting the video camera.
"Are you done yet?" my voice wailed, and then I was walking into the picture.
I was in the clothes I vaguely remembered putting on yesterday and woke up in today, and my hair were tussled and sticking up in all different directions and my eyes were bright with alcohol.
Adam talked now. "Almost. I think it's attached to the tripod. Let me see if I can let go without it falling...yes!"
We both cheered as Adam walked into the picture next to me. His curls were wild and there was a big red stain on his shirt and his eyes were as bright as mine. We were clearly equally drunk, which was bad.
"Is it recording?" I asked him, my voice slightly slurred.
He nodded. "I think it's been recording for awhile."
"Oh. Well then, should we start?"
"I guess so."
I attempted to flatten down my hair and Adam rubbed at the stain on his shirt as if that would get it to go away. Then we both turned to the camera with big, drunken smiles.
"Hi, I'm Isabelle Turner of the past," I said.
"And I'm Adam Long of the past," Adam added.
"And we're completely trashed."
"And also completely in love."
"We just discovered this about two hours ago, while we were in the midst of getting drunk."
"It was love at first sight."
"But it is not a love we will remember. See, we have both drunken a substantial amount of alcohol."
"And we will both probably puke and pass out and then wake up in the morning with no recollection of falling in love. So we," Adam put his arm around me, and I reached up to grab his hand, "being the genius drunks we are decided to video tape ourselves for you, our future selves."
"When we are done, we are going to tape this to Adam's chest with a note that says 'WATCH ME' and has my phone number on it under it so when he wakes up tomorrow, he will watch it and then call me and then we will be back in love."
"So that is our plan. I hope you realize how brilliant you are, future selves. Do you know what it's time for now, Isabelle?"
"What is it time for, Adam?" This, I asked eagerly, like a game show contestant about to win the big prize.
"It's time for making out!"
"Yay!" I cheered.
"Ok, future selves. First, we're going to make out. Then it will be your turn. Ready, Isabelle?"
And then, Adam and I made out, right there on the screen. I stared at us, unsure what to think. After maybe thirty seconds, we stopped, and we looked at the camera eagerly.
"Your turn, future selves," Adam said. "Ready, go!"
Present time Adam and I looked at each other for a moment and then looked away. Drunk Adam and Isabelle were definitely a lot more outgoing than the sober versions of us.
After another thirty seconds, the drunk us started cheering. "Yay for reclaiming love!" drunk me screamed.
Adam smiled and said, "Ok, we're leaving you now, future selves. Have fun, and don't get too crazy, kids."
"Bye!" Adam and I shouted together, and then Adam walked towards the camera, and then it was over. The tape stopped turning over and clicked to a halt, and it was suddenly very quiet.
"Well..." I said, but I had nothing to finish that sentence with.
Adam looked at me and then looked away again. "What do you think?" he asked the air in front of him.
"I think we got drunk, made out a little bit, and then thought, 'hey, we're in love!' and decided to roll with that," I replied.
Adam looked over at me shyly, and finally talked straight to me. "So you don't think we were really...in love?"
"I don't know what to think," I said. "I really don't."
Now Adam scooted over, so he was on the crack between his cushion and the middle cushion. "But do you think it's a possibility? That we're really fated lovers or something like that and just happened to meet drunk, but the power of true love overpowered it and even inebriated we realized something special was happening?"
"You really thought a lot about this, didn't you?" I asked, but as I said that I scooted over so I was on the crack on the other side of the cushion.
Adam moved over again, so there were only a few inches between us. "Yeah, I did. Between freaking out over it and calling you, I thought about it a lot."
I scooted over the final inches, so our arms, hips, and legs were now touching. "Well, I think it's a possibility. But I think now that we can think, we should maybe go slower, and start over again, and if we are meant to be in love, after a couple of dates we'll still be."
Adam smiled. "Ok. That sounds like a plan."
I stood up, walked to the opposite wall of the room, and then turned around and walked back to Adam. I sat down next to him. "How much does a polar bear weigh?" I asked.
Looking completely lost, Adam asked, "How much?"
"Enough to break the ice! Hi, I'm Isabelle Turner." I stuck out my hand.
He took my hand and shook it. "Hi. I'm Adam Long. If you were a booger, I'd pick you."
I laughed at that. "Well, do you have a map? Because I'm lost in your eyes."
"Did it hurt?"
"When you fell down from Heaven," I finished for him.
"Actually, I was going to say when you got beat with an ugly stick, but that works too."
I laughed at that, and soon Adam joined in, and then we were laughing together, and I could see how drunk me could fall in love with this guy so quickly. I think it was happening again with sober me.
"So, do you want to go on a date tonight?" Adam asked me, putting his hand over mine.
I smiled at him and said, "Well, seeing as I've been holding back puke pretty much since you walked in the door, I'm going to say let's delay it for tomorrow."
"Tomorrow it is. I'll call you." He stood up.
"Ok. Bye, Adam."
He surprised me by leaning down and giving me a quick peck on the lips. It wasn't the serious making out I had watched us do on the TV, or the making out that we were instructed by our past selves to do, but it was still perfect. I smiled up at him and he smiled down at me.
And then, just like on the tape, we said 'bye' together.
But unlike on the tape, this was a bye we would remember.