Chapter 3
I woke up with only the slightest hangover late Saturday morning. My first thoughts, after looking for Aspirin, were of Gage. Was he hung over, too? Was he feeling okay? Was he thinking about me?
Too soon to think like that. He’s probably not even interested.
I stumbled out into the kitchen in my boxers and a T-shirt. Larry sat at the kitchen table with a pitcher and two glasses.
“Hey,” he said. “I just mixed this. Here.”
He handed it to me and I took a whiff and recoiled. He laughed at my reaction.
“What is this?”
“Hair of the dog, my friend. Drink up.”
I shrugged and downed the drink. It was greasy and turned my stomach. I started to gag and Larry laughed even harder.
“I hate you,” I said.
Larry refilled our glasses and I took mine back to my bedroom. My sketchbook la
