Nico awoke in a bed that wasn't his own. His headache pounded away at his skull, causing him to groan in pain. The debilitating hangover paused his actions and reduced his vision to bleary, dizzy shapes.

Once the world ceased to move, he reached and felt around for his glasses on the nightstand and replaced them on his face. He sat up slowly and beheld his unfamiliar surroundings: the ceiling had a long, shallow crack on its surface, and white curtains were drawn over the windows to deflect the sunlight that would otherwise stream into the room and blind him. The walls were plastered with patterned wallpaper the color of custard that reminded him of his kitchen back home. The floor planks were a dark brown, alike his dorm room, but that was the only similarity. This room seemed larger than his own. He must have been taken back to an apartment off-campus rather than the identical living quarters in the male dormitory building.

The blue, woolly blanket that was draped over him was not as soft as his own. He peeled off the coarse blanket, seeing that all but his underwear and socks were removed from his body. He felt disturbed that someone bothered to strip him of his clothing.

Another wave of pain came over him, which made him wince and place his fingers over his aching temples. When would he learn not to drink so much? He lied back down, pulling the pillow from beneath his head and placing it over his face, hoping the cool underside would dull the pain.

He heard soft patterings on the door. It was considerate of whomever stood behind it to knock gently, but it still sounded like someone was banging on the wood. Without a response, the door opened, and his abductor peeked his head through to check on him. Nico lifted the pillow to behold his captor, who was smiling gently at him.

"You're awake," he said in a mellifluous, tenor voice. "I'm sorry I undressed you. You had vomit all over your clothes. I washed them for you, don't worry. They're on the clothesline right now."

"Where am I?"

"My apartment," said the stranger, as if it was the most common occurrence in the world. "I didn't know where you lived, so I brought you here."

Nico closed his eyes, and the vision of stumbling onto this stranger appeared in the darkness, accompanied by him vomiting on his shoes and lower pant legs. His cheeks flared with embarrassment.

"I-I-I'm sorry for causing you any trouble," Nico stammered, attempting to ignore the throbbing pain in his head.

"It's all right," the stranger waved it off. "I was looking for an excuse to leave, anyway."

Nico smiled humorously, the action sending a jolt of pain to his head. He winced.

"Would you like a Bloody Mary? You must have a terrible hangover."

Nico nodded gratefully. "Please."

He disappeared from the doorway, aiming for the kitchen to retrieve the ingredients. With practiced hands, he began to prepare the drink from memory—a task done more often than he would like to admit.
   
Nico stared at the ceiling in his borrowed bed, mortified about their first exchange. Fortunately, his schedule was clear, so he didn't have to worry about missed classes, but Leo was probably worried sick about him. He would apologize once he returned home, he thought.
   
The stranger returned to the room shortly after with a glass of red liquid. The younger male accepted the cold glass with gratitude before sipping at the bitter drink.

"Thank you," he told him, hoping to feel the soothing relief that would come with time.
   
"Don't mention it," he casually anchored his hands in his pockets and shrugged.
   
Once he downed the concoction, Nico wiped the juice off his lips with the back of his hand and stood. The wooden floor was cold beneath his sock-clad feet as he approached the taller male and returned the empty glass, which was stained with remnants of the red beverage.
   
"I should be going," Nico said. "Leo's probably gone into a panic."
   
The stranger nodded, assuming that he was referring to the curly-headed boy that accompanied him to the party. He remembered the clothes on the clothesline that were most likely dried by now. "I'll get you your clothes, then."
   
Nico followed him, feeling self-conscious about his lack of apparel. He felt a sudden draft on the back of his legs and shivered. He awaited his familiar vest that hugged his body and his black coat that kept him warm on the coldest nights.
   
After receiving his clothes, now free of any trace of vomit, he slipped them on. He reached into his coat, which was draped over his forearm, and creased his eyebrows in confusion at the empty pockets.
   
"Oh, cigarettes," the stranger said, feeling at his pockets. He turned to the other room, fetching the pack that was sitting on the table and offering it to him. "I hope you don't mind that I took one."
   
Nico shrugged. "Consider it as a thank you."
   
The other man nodded.
   
Nico waved at him before leaving the apartment, traipsing down the wooden stairs and out the main door. As he looked around, he was relieved to see that his surroundings were familiar, and he knew which turns to take to arrive back home. He left the parking lot, walking past a Chevy sedan, the color reminding him of cat vomit stains left on the parlor carpet at his parents' house.
   
"What an ugly color," he thought distastefully, beginning the short journey down the lengths of sidewalks to campus.

* * * * * *

   
"Nico! Where did you go? I thought you got shanghaied!" Leo exclaimed once Nico entered the door. "I was prepared to receive a ransom note, and all I got for paying ransom fees right now are newspaper comics, and not good ones, either."
   
"I wasn't kidnapped," he replied, ignoring Leo's poor attempt at a joke. "Don't worry."
   
"Well, what happened? I was looking all over for you, so I thought you bailed, then, when I came back, you weren't here."
   
"I drank a little too much, and I passed out on someone. He brought me back to his place."
   
Leo looked at him worriedly.
   
"He was courteous," Nico attempted to rectify his statement, "so he gave me a place to sleep and washed my clothes. It was very kind of him, considering that I..." He paused, uncertain if he wished to continue.
   
"What?"
   
"I... I threw up on him," Nico said, straightforwardly, yet sheepishly. He was hesitant on sharing that tidbit with Leo, primarily because he expected him to laugh at him, and that was exactly what he did.
   
"You did?" He howled with laughter. "That's precious. Oh, I wish I could've seen it. What was his name?"
   
Nico creased his eyebrows in thought. "I don't know. We didn't have an introduction."
   
"That's too bad," Leo said. "So, I found this beautiful girl. She's a brunette, and she had the nicest—"
   
Nico shook his head and ignored him, instead going to his room and closing the door annoyedly behind him.
   
"Hey! I wasn't finished!" Leo exclaimed. "Nico! Hey! She said she wanted to meet you. She said she liked the smart type."
   
"I told you, Leo," Nico said, shedding his shirt from his torso and digging through his drawers for something else to wear. "I'm not interested."
   
"You haven't even seen her!" Leo replied from behind the door. "She was probably one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen, and I have seen lots of girls."
   
"I know," Nico told him derisively.
   
"C'mon, Nico," Leo persuaded. "Just give her a chance."
   
"I'll think about it," Nico said, to pacify him. "For now, I'm going to the library."
   
"Again? Finals are over, you know."
   
"I do," Nico retorted. "I have to return the books I borrowed and I can't afford late fees right now."
   
"Well, give Sheila my best wishes," Leo told him.
   
"No," Nico admonished. "If you want to sleep with the librarian, go do it yourself."
   
"Churlish," Leo muttered indignantly before leaving to his own room.
   
Nico rolled his eyes before slipping on a sweater and snatching the books on his desk in his arms. He headed out the door, thinking about the girl Leo wanted him to meet.

As he strolled across the campus to the one building he enjoyed spending hours in, he grew tense. The fear of anyone discovering his secret crept up the back of his neck and permeated his gut. Was Leo beginning to suspect the reason he didn't wish to date was that he wasn't into girls? He suddenly felt paranoid and held his books closer to his chest.
   
Once the library building was in view, he sighed in relief. He should have invested in a vehicle of some sort so he would not have to face the long trek alone, with only his thoughts to accompany him.
   
The flavor of cola touched his tongue, and he felt urged to buy one afterwards. He could stop by the diner and order a refreshing, ice-cold cola and some fries. He could feel the bubbles in his throat and the salt on his tongue already. The grass felt soft beneath his shoes as he walked, negligent to the world around him.
   
He pushed his glasses up his nose as he faced the library. Perhaps he would take a glance around and find some books to pass the time and ignore Leo and his female guests with. He had all day to spare, anyway.
   
He entered the familiar building—he had become quite acquainted with it over the time he spent studying on his finals—with his heavy books in hand, prepared to slide them into a slot, above which read, with large, bold, black letters, "RETURNS." Then, he was off to the incessant isles of books that towered over him like the tall buildings in downtown Stanford.
   
He selected a few new releases that he heard of and made a quick turn to the check-out desk, consequently running into someone. She gave a startled gasp as she released the books in her arms. His eyes widened in surprise before he bent down to help her with her books that had fallen to the floor as a result of his own hastiness. She gazed up at him through her long lashes with crystal blue eyes. Her chestnut hair was styled in neat curls and her lips were as red as cherry soda. A frilly, pink-and-white-polka-dotted dress adorned her thin body.
   
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice light and deferential.
   
"No, don't be," he said, peering at her over the frames of his glasses. "I was in a rush."
   
She blushed slightly at his humbleness, collecting her books and standing. "Thank you."
   
"Don't worry about it," he returned politely.
   
He strode past her, eyeing the check-out counter, where Sheila boredly looked down at a book, her round spectacles trained upon it as her eyes chased word after word written on the page.
   
"You're Nico, right?" she inquired after him.
   
He stopped in his tracks at the call of his name and turned to face her.

"Yes?" he asked, curiously.

He was certain that he never had met her, as her face would not be easy to forget.
   
"I don't believe you know me, but your friend told me that he wanted me to meet you at the party last night," she told him.
   
Nico nodded, adeptly disguising his apprehension. "He may have mentioned you."
   
Her plump lips curled into a kind, gentle smile. "I'm Ruth. Ruth Prescott."
   
He smiled hesitantly at her. How could he turn her down when she seemed so pleasant? It would be rude of him to deny her when she did nothing wrong. Additionally, to his dismay, Leo was not lying about her great beauty. Her eyes were large, blue, and sparkled like crystals. She had a clear, fair complexion with rosy cheeks and long, fluttering eyelashes. Her hair was neat, and her waistline was desirably thin. She was the type of girl any guy in his right mind would fall head over heels for. A right mind was something Nico wanted to jot down on his shopping list.
   
"The pleasure is all mine," he fibbed. "Now, if you will excuse me, I am in a hurry."
   
"Of course,"  she dismissed. "I'll see you around, then."

He nodded.

Nico turned, books in hand, swearing to himself as he ventured over to Sheila, who looked up at him boredly, expecting his polite pleasantries and his usual, "Leo sends you his wishes," but, to her great pleasure, this visit lacked his friend's annoying persistence. He smiled in accomplishment as he promptly received his books and could finally leave to the diner.