It's Wednesday, and somehow you've drawn the short straw again, so you're stuck at Club XY, serving drinks to the handful of people coming in to dance. So far it's been an incredibly slow night, and looking at your watch, you see it's not even midnight. Hoping to alleviate the impending boredom, you mix yourself a midori sour (staff drinking policies at the Club are rather lax). Normally you wouldn't drink at work, but today was a terrible day.
Waking up this morning with a splitting headache (which was strange, since you NEVER got headaches) you staggered out of bed, eyes still unfocused from sleep. Moving awkwardly through the tiny studio, you tripped over an unseen obstacle, and despite flailing your arms comically to restore your balance, fell onto the foot of Michael's bed. The shock woke you up, and you realized that, thankfully, your roomie was still out. It was awkward enough living in the same bedroom with a straight guy without you throwing yourself on top of him, especially since he had just moved in the week before.
With your head still reeling, you made your way to the bathroom, and took a nice hot shower. Unfortunately, it did nothing to cure the pounding headache, and with a desperate prayer, you clawed open the medicine cabinet to find... nothing. Cursing, you went to the kitchen and pulled open the cabinets, hoping that Michael might have grabbed something in the last shopping trip. Just as you found a bottle of something that looked like it should help, you heard a key in the lock, and realized that you were still completely naked! Unfortunately, you hesitate a moment too long, and Michael opens the door to a full view of your man-meat.
"Dude, Andrew, that's sick!" He cried, covering his eyes. "That is SO not OK. I thought you were gay, not a voyeur."
"Michael, I am so sorry," you replied, making a mad dash to the bathroom. "I'll just throw on some clothes. I just... I just forgot to put on a towel. I'm not used to having a roomie yet, I guess."
"Yeah, well, you don't have to. I'm not gonna live with some crazy nudist fag. Besides, I've been seeing you eyeing me when you think I'm not looking. I'm outta here. I'll pick my stuff up when you're in class."
With that, he slammed the door shut and left you to your headache. To make matters worse, you were late for your first class, and forgot to bring the essay you had been assigned. Your Nazi of a teacher even made you -
"Andrew. Hey, Andreeeeew?"
You snap out of your reverie and notice that Jamie has turned up. He's been a friend of yours since your first year of college, and you're pretty sure that he has the hots for you, but you haven't had the balls to ask him.
"You might want to actually serve the customers if you're hoping to get the big tips, buddy," Jamie says. Noticing your glass, he adds, "You OK there? I've never seen you drink here, which, come to think of it, is kind of funny, since all the other guys do."
"It's been a crappy day. I kinda lost my roomie, and then I got kicked out of my history class, which means I'll have to take it over AGAIN next semester... But I shouldn't be bitching, I'm the bartender - you're supposed to bitch at me, remember?"
"Oh, right, I always get that backwards. Well, if you want my sob story, here goes. There's this g-"
That's as far as Jamie gets when suddenly...
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