I wake up with a throbbing headache, but I’ve had worse hangovers. I feel around for Laurel, but she’s not beside me. I sit up quickly; Tyler is gone too… I guess that’s good. I would have been pissed to wake up next to just Tyler. There is a slight panic in my chest; where are they? They didn’t leave together, did they?

Then I hear a loud, horrible hacking noise coming from outside of the bedroom. I frantically search for my pants before heading out. I see Laurel first; she’s sitting at the bar, holding an icepack to her head. She’s in my t-shirt, and she’s failed to put on pants –at least she’s wearing her underwear. I blush to see that she is also sitting on an icepack.

Another hacking sound draws my attention over to the toilet in the midst of the kitchen –seriously, who designed this place? Tyler is on his knees, barely hanging onto the toilet, praying to the porcelain gods. “He’s been at it for at least fifteen minutes,” Laurel groans as I make my appearance.

“Tyler, you all right?” I ask, surprised I can even say the man’s name after last night.

He holds up his middle finger at me and proceeds to continue throwing up in the toilet. He lets out a few swear words and shakes, gasping a bit before he has to throw up again. “He was ass naked in here when I woke up; I got him to put on his sweatpants,” Laurel says; she looks miserable. “I feel bad for him,” she whispers to me.

I rub my temples; I guess I don’t have to kick his ass –the alcohol is doing it for me. I’ve never seen him so messed up before. He starts to pass out on the toilet, so I go over to shake him up. He jolts, “Don’t touch me!” and he falls onto the kitchen floor.

Laurel stands, and she comes over to us. The two of us pull him to his feet and help him walk over to the kitchen sink. He turns on the water and splashes his face several times; Laurel and I stand on either side of him to keep him from falling out. “I swear,” Tyler groans, “If you two ever tell anyone about last night, I’ll kill you.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, man,” I say.

“So you two wouldn’t want to do that again?” Laurel teases as she walks back around the kitchen island to sit back down on her icepack.

“No!” Both Tyler and I snap.

“Too bad,” she says, “I would have wanted to try to get Marty in on it next time.”

“Fuck that,” Tyler moans and grips the kitchen island in order to walk. He starts to let go of the island to head into the den, but I stop him.

“Easy, man, let me help,” I say, “You’re going to fall and crack your damn head open.”

“Asshole,” he grumbles as I walk him over to the couch.

“I’m going to fix some coffee,” I say; it’s clearly my job as the one who’s not quite as hungover. I still have a pretty bad headache, but I’m much more mobile than Laurel and Tyler –especially Tyler.

“Flush that,” Laurel says and points a finger over at the toilet, holding an icepack to her head. “Why aren’t you more hungover?”

I flush the toilet and cringe slightly –why the fuck is there a toilet in the kitchen? I still can’t get over that. It makes me not want to eat anything that comes out of the kitchen. “I don’t think I had as much to drink as you,” I say.

“So I bet you remember last night better than me,” she says.

I shake my head, “Unfortunately. I would have preferred to have blacked it all out.” I get the coffee going, and I bring both of them a cup. I toss Tyler a water too; I’m having a hard time looking at him.

“So,” Tyler says, desperate to talk about anything other than what happened last night, “how did that assessment thing go on Saturday for that manager?”

“It went fine, I guess,” I say, “I don’t know. That manager is pretty young, and I assume he’s kind of inexperienced…. But again, I don’t know. He might know what he’s doing. Either way, I’ll be lucky if the guy offers to-”

Call it fate. My phone is ringing; I search for it and find it lying on the floor by the couch. It’s Caleb. “Shut up!” I shout, but neither of them are talking. “Hello?” I say, ignoring my headache.

“Is this Trial?” he asks.

“Speaking,” I say.

“Hey, listen, here’s the deal. I’ve been looking over some of your past matches, and I think I might have been a little harsh. You’re good. I still have my concerns, and I still want you to take care of everything I mentioned at our meeting the other day, but if you’re up for it, I might have a match set up for you.”

My jaw drops. “Are you serious?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m serious,” he says, “It’s a low profile match, but the moron you’ll be boxing is desperate to make a name for himself. When I threw your name out there, well, he thinks if he can kick your ass he’ll be able to move up –you know? It’ll be an easy win for you, though, and if you dominate it’ll be a good comeback.”

“I’ll do it!” I say, trying to contain my excitement.

“Great. I’ll email you the details. I don’t have a trainer for you, man. No one wants to deal with you right now.” he says.

I cringe. “Seriously?”

“You don’t exactly have a good reputation right now,” he says, “None of my trainers are interested. Do you have anyone?”

“I’ll figure something out,” I say.

“Good,” he says, “get to work. Your match is in two weeks.” He hangs up the phone.

Two weeks? Shit! I’m seriously out of practice. I look at Laurel and Tyler who are both staring at me, waiting for an explanation for the big smile on my face. “What’s going on, man?” Tyler asks.

“I –I got a match.” I can hardly believe it.

Laurel jumps up, “That’s great!”

Tyler gives me a lazy thumbs up –still too hungover for a serious celebration. Laurel puts her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek. I smile at her and kiss her back. “Nope,” Tyler snaps, “you two aren’t allowed to do that in front of me anymore.”

I flick him off and give her another kiss. I can’t believe it. I got a match.