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Mike's head was pounding when he woke up in the morning. He had been drinking way too much the night before. It was a miracle he had even made it back home - one that he could only attribute to the good will of his childhood friend, Linda. She was more than likely the one who had made sure he had gotten home in one way or another, be that by carrying him or calling him a taxi. She had been drinking with him as well, but she was much better at holding her liquor. It was kind of convenient - at least on Mike's end.

His eyes glanced almost ashamedly at the pillow next to him on his bed. It was empty - no surprise there. He blindly wished more often than he would like to admit that Linda would be too drunk to leave when she dragged his sorry ass into bed, and that she would be there when he awoke. She was beautiful. She was smart. She was funny. She was a great drinker. They had been friends for years - and he had loved her for just as long. He could only pray that one day he would work up the courage to say something about it to her. Although he highly doubted she would return the sentiment - she could do far better.

Icy cold water splashed on his face, sending a shock through his system and making him gasp for air. He didn't remember how he had gotten to the shower, but at least he had left his clothes behind in the process. He wasn't sure if it was the sleepiness or the hangover that had made him forget getting there. Probably both.

After his shower, he sat down at the counter with a bowl of cereal. Almost immediately, his phone went off. Probably a text from Linda, asking how he was handling the hangover. Without looking, he opened his phone and tabbed over into the most recent messages and glanced at it as he began to eat. The spoon never reached his mouth.

Linda: ...unless you liked it?

What the hell did that mean? He quickly started to scroll back.

Linda: o my god

Linda: i can't believe i

Linda: please pretend that never happened

Linda: i'm so sorry

Linda: i swear, i didnt mean to send that

Linda: o my god, i cant believe i sent that last night. what the hell was i thinking. i didnt think i drank that much

The last new message was from hours earlier than the rest. The others must have come while he was in the shower. But the last - or rather, first - was from late the night before. And it was a single picture. A picture of Linda, naked as the day she was born, looking a little drunk but more magnificent in her birthday suit than Mike could have ever imagined. Posing for the camera, looking sexier than Mike could possibly imagine. He could feel his entire face going red, but he couldn't stop looking. It was more than he could have ever dreamed.

Wait. Did she ask if he had liked it?