The Morning After, Gabe's Story

Gabe awoke with a groan, his alcohol-addled mind pulsing painfully. As light filtered through the blinds in the room and pierced his corneas, the nausea hit him like a wrecking ball. Several moments later, he was hunched over the toilet bowl emptying his stomach violently. Slowly, he stood, stumbling slightly to the sink in order to wash his face and wash out his mouth with a few cups of Listerine.

Refreshed, but only slightly less nauseous than before, Gabe leaned against the frame of the bathroom doorway. "Never again…" he swore, just as he always did after waking up hung over.

Gabe blinked in confusion when he heard a groan and raised his head to view the bed. He watched the petite figure in his bed turn over and sit up to stretch. As the thin, blue sheet fell away from their chest, Gabe had no more doubts.

He'd had sex with a woman.

"Well…this is new…" He stayed where he was as the woman slowly gained her bearings, amused to see her as confused and surprised as he'd been upon waking. Sitting as she was, leaning forward half-asleep, her dark brown hair hid some of her face from view.

She finally noticed him watching her from the bathroom doorway and a red hue spread across her face, a combined reaction to his staring and her seeing him in all his naked glory. "H-hi," the woman started, sounding nervous; he waved a small hello and she continued, "I'm… not sure if you remember, but I'm Abigail… Abbi for short...?"

"Gabe," he replied with an amused lilt to his voice.

"Uh…" She paused to clutch the sheets to her chest, suddenly very mindful of the fact that she was naked in a strange man's bed. "Would you mind if I used your bathroom?"

Gabe nodded as he stepped out of the doorway and moved over to the dark cherry wood dresser next to the window. Opening one of the drawers, he bent over slightly. Abbi enjoyed the view before quickly collecting her clothes from the floor and going into the bathroom. There was a two second pause before the door reopened and she went over to the lamp in the corner and retrieved her panties.

Once Gabe had pants on, he slowly moved to the window of his bedroom and closed the blinds. He hung his head for a moment, letting his eyes heal from their brief meeting with sunlight, before he turned to his bed and crawled atop it, burying his face under the pillows. One arm lay atop the dark blue mound, keeping it in place, and the other brushed his nose as it lay partially beneath the pillow.

Ten minutes later, Abbi re-emerged in a bra and the pants she had been wearing the night before. She noticed the prone, half-dressed body lying on the bed and threw her shirt at it.

Gabe suffered a full-body twitch, not expecting to be hit, but otherwise didn't move from his position. Slowly, he moved, peeking one of his hazel eyes out from beneath the pillow over his head. One of his hands groped around for what had hit him and a few moments later he found it. He brought it near his half-covered face to see it better and accidentally stuck his hand through the ripped shirt.

"… Sorry." He pulled his hand out of the material and then threw it into a corner. "I'm not usually that rough."

"Alcohol?" She watched him slowly get up from the bed and shuffle over to the dresser he'd opened before.

Gabe nodded carefully, not wanting to induce a headache. "I'm not a drinker."

"I can tell. You hit parties like that often?"

"Only when Karen takes me with her to events." He grabbed something from the drawer and tossed it to the brown-haired young woman behind him, then made his way over to the kitchenette.

Abbi peeked around the bamboo screen that separated the bed from the majority of the apartment, watching him, and put the shirt on. "How do you know Karen?"

She stayed standing beside the screen, shifting slightly at the pain it caused her to move, and watched him move about. Gabe noticed her continual shift as he filled the kettle and set it on the stove to boil. This accomplished, he then reached for two mugs from the collection that hung from the underside of the cabinets.

"She's my sister… Are you ok?" he asked, placing the mugs on the island separating the kitchen from the rest of the room.

"Yeah, just a little sore."

Gabe nodded, moving over to a blue jar that sat on the counter. "Sorry."

Abbi shrugged it off, looking around absently. "It's cool, it was totally worth it," she said with a grin.

Gabe shook his head, a small smile adorning his face. She pointed at him and grinned wider. "You smiled, I win!" He ignored her, taking the now whistling kettle off the stove.

"What are you making?" she asked, curious.

"Tea."

"Do you have coffee?"

"Special herb mix will help the soreness."

"Oh…" She turned and scanned the apartment, trying to learn more about her host. She took in the off-white walls, standard for any apartment, and the mixture of dark blues and dark browns in the form of furniture and wood pieces. Just as she noticed one of the plaques hanging on his walls, next to a few movie posters, Gabe returned and handed her a red mug.

He walked past her and sat down on the bed, closing his eyes and drinking from a black mug. Abbi thanked him, sat herself beside him on the bed, and looked over at his mug.

"What're you drinking?"

"Hang over cure," he said. She raised an eyebrow at him in question, asking him to elaborate. "Coffee," he answered with a grin.

"You know, I have a hang over too," she muttered, but sipped from her mug anyway, enjoying the sweet flavor.

"Would you rather walk without pain or look into light without a migraine?" He sipped his coffee. "Besides, coffee is just more toxins for your liver to sort through. Coffee as a hang over cure is an old drunk's tale."

"So why are you drinking coffee then?"

"I'm out of milk and I wanted to drink something that wasn't tea."

They sat in silence for a minute before she spoke up, "Where'd you get those plaques?"

He looked up at the closest plaque, unreadable from their position. "Several are Ivors and a couple from Combustion Music." He paused, thinking. "Oh, and one from the Songwriters Hall of Fame."

"Ok…so…what are those?"

Gabe rolled his eyes, but Abbi could see the corner of his mouth pulled into a very small smile. "The Ivors are awards for songwriting and composing. Combustion Music awards are for songwriting. And well…I don't really have to explain the hall of fame award, do I?"

"Accomplished aren't we?"

"I suppose." He drank the last of his coffee and sat it on the nightstand next to him.

"Oh, I like me a modest man," she grinned flirtatiously, sipping more of her tea.

"So now you know I'm a songwriter. What do you do?"

"My life isn't quite so glamorous." She ignored the snort he gave in reply. "I waitress, but I'm working on becoming an actress. Karen was helping me with that last night."

"So, basically, you were hoping to get bombed and sleep with a producer or a director and have them cast you because you're an animal in bed?"

"Not exactly…" she adopted a thoughtful look. "Would've been nice to wake up next to a producer or director though…or a handsome actor…"

"Sorry to disappoint."

She grinned at him again, a suggestive light shining in her emerald eyes. "There was no disappointment last night, stud, none at all." She leaned over and bit at his ear, pushing on his shoulder to get him to lie on the bed.

Gabe complied, a highly amused smile on his face. Abbi took the smile as encouragement and straddled his waist before leaning down and kissing him passionately. She hesitated a few moments later to still feel the smile on his lips. Sitting up with her hands on his broad shoulders she looked at him oddly.

"What are you smiling at?"

"You do know I'm gay right?"

"Sure, stud, and I'm a lesbian. Now take your pants off," she said, working his boxers down his hips.

"What, you don't believe me?" he asked, not seeming at all bothered by the fact that she now had his boxers down to his thighs.

Abbi paused, deep in thought over whether or not she would need the boxers off or if they were good where they were. She shrugged, figuring the knees would be a nice compromise as she answered, "No gay man would be that good in bed, stud. Not many know their way around a woman like you do."

He grabbed her hands, keeping her from touching him any further and gave her a pointed look. Abbi pouted as she sat up and crossed her arms over her chest, pronouncing her breasts through the shirt. "Fine then, prove it."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that? Not have sex with you?" He asked, clearly not seeing how it'd even help. He could see in her eyes that she'd jump him whether he was straight or not.

"No!" She said quickly, panicked at the thought of not getting to bed the fine specimen of man beneath her once more. Then she realized she'd answered a little too fast. "I mean, I don't know! Say something gay or… or show me your collection of Britney Spears memorabilia!"

"You realize that's a stereotype," he said flatly.

"Well, if you're so gay, why were you all over me last night at the party? So drunk you forgot your sexual preference?"

"I had enough jager-bombs and straight vodka to shut down my liver for a month and have sex a woman," he explained, exasperated. "I'm lucky I found my bloody apartment last night!"

Abbi stared at him, simultaneously giving him the evil eye and trying to read him and see if he was telling the truth. After three straight minutes of silence she sighed. "So it's true then, all the good ones are either married or gay…"

Gabe shrugged and rubbed her arm in a soothing manner. "I'm not all that good, really. Most people would go so far as to say I'm an ass."

"I wouldn't believe them."

"If you heard half the stories Karen tells about me, the ones that aren't embarrassing childhood stories, you'd believe it." Gabe stretched, arching his back up and away from the mattress, and cracking his back.

"How the hell did you do that?" Abbi asked, incredulous. Her face was a mixture of awe and disgust, one eyebrow hovering slightly higher than the other.

"Do what?"

"Crack your back like that, I've never seen anyone do that."

Gabe shrugged and yawned, knocking her gently to the side as he sat up. "I don't know, just always been able to do it." He scratched his head and then rubbed his face.

Abbi sat up next to him and stretched her arms up over her head. "So when did you know you were gay?"

"Probably around the time I realized that I was subconsciously imposing the image of Hugh Jackman over every girl I slept with."

She giggled and rubbed her neck with one hand. Tugging slightly at her shirt in a nervous habit, she asked, "So… any plans for today?"

Gabe stood, fixing his boxers, and started rummaging through his wardrobe for something to put on. "Nah…not that I can remember anyway. What about you?"

"Well, I'd been hoping to be on my way to a starring role in a big movie or tv show by now."

"Ah, right, that whole sleep with a producer thing…how'd that work out for you by the way?" He asked sarcastically, pulling blue jeans on and then shrugging into a black button-up.

"Ha, ha." She glared at him. "You don't have to rub it in, you ass… Actually, you wouldn't happen to have any Hollywood parties or red carpet affairs coming up, would you?"

"Sorry, nothing of the sort. Though I do have a recording session coming up in a few days… I should probably work on the songs for that…"

Abbi leaned back on the bed and tilted her head. "So, is that guitar in your living room for show or do you actually know how to play it?"

Gabe glanced her way before going into the living room to retrieve his guitar. He sat on the back of one of the couches and settled the instrument in his lap. It was a sleek, glossy black with dark blue accents around the edges and strings. Strumming the strings once, he made sure it was still in tune, and then he began to create a song that was upbeat and smooth. A moment later his voice joined the fray of chords, adding an element that had been missing just a second ago.

Too soon, he stopped singing and a guitar solo brought them to an end. Abbi clapped and smiled at him as he placed the guitar gently back on its stand.

"What do you call that piece, stud?"

"The Morning After."

End.