His head throbbed. Sharp white light pulsed behind his eyes every time his heart beat. His mouth tasted like it had been packed full of moldy cheese and old cigarette butts. His stomach lurched, and his muscles felt stretched. The joints seemed displaced, as if by some primitive torture device. His shoulders hurt worst, like the balls had been wrenched from their sockets. Was it love that made him ache like this? What had they been drinking? Cheap vodka or that disgusting bourbon Cam’s mother kept hidden in her underwear drawer?Something hard and cold stretched along the left side of his face and body. He must be on the tree-house floor. He was naked, but that wasn’t unusual. Perhaps he’d rolled out of his sleeping bag. A strand of hair had fallen into his mouth and tickled his throat unpleasantly. He tried to reach up and brush it away, and found he couldn’t move his arms. His hands, tingling and asleep, rested with the knuckles against his lower back. A dry cough didn’t expel the nuisance, either, so he dared to open his eyes.
