The morning sun streamed into the upstairs bedroom.  On the coffee table sat a bottle of Patrón, still three-quarters full.  Keeping its company were eight bottles of Corona, each with an eighth of lime at the bottom; two empty bottles of Dos Equis, both containing Cuban cigar butts; and finally, a can of Tecate.  Una noche loca.

His bloodshot eyes squinted at the intruding light, as he surveyed the aftermath.  His eyes shifted to his stomach, where her head was resting.  She was still asleep.  Her body was positioned at a right angle to his, with her legs curled up by his side.  To his disappointment, they both were still fully clothed.

Downstairs, a scruffy man in his mid-twenties entered through the front door.  He strolled into the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cheerios, which he proceeded to eat while leaning against the peninsula countertop that bisected the room.  Between bites, he hummed to music playing from his earphones, while pausing periodically to yell the more emphatic verses. 

Hmm-uh-duh-duh-hmm, sing it from the heart, sing it til you’re nuts, sing it out for the ones that’ll hate your guts!

The man used his sleeve to wipe away milk that had dribbled down his chin during his brief vocal performance.  He looked up to see his brother leading an unknown guest down the stairway.

“Yo yo yo, what’s up little bro!”  Little bro rolled his eyes.

“Looks like you finally got a girlfriend,” he teased.  “I was willing to bet money you were gay.”

“Look who’s talking,” he shot back.

“Hey, I am single by choice,” the older brother retorted.  “You should loosen up that string around his balls,” he said to the girl, “he’s not getting enough blood to his brain.”  She gave a quick smile and tried not to blush.

“By the way, I drank all your shit,” the younger brother confessed as they were walking out the door.

“I’m sure it took the whole fridge to get you laid!”  he yelled back, as the door closed.  The older brother laughed.  “Lucky motherfucker,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.  He put his headphones back on and returned to his cereal.

Outside, the car crackled down the gravel drive and onto the backroad.  A blue-skied Saturday lay before them.  It held boundless opportunities for leisure.  And where one finds leisure, one often finds the ingredients for love.

He threw her a sheepish look.  “We drank quite a bit last night.  Are you hungover?” he asked.  “No, I feel fine,” she said.  “Well, if you start feeling bad, let me know and we’ll pull over,” he offered.  His concern was appreciated.

He paused for a moment, and then continued.  “Cause I just had this car cleaned, and I’ll be damned if I gotta clean it again this weekend.”  He laughed loudly.

How sweet, she thought.

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