I woke up the next morning with no recollection of where the hell I was. Although, I could smell the pancakes before anything else registered: the warm, buttery, sweet scent that created an image of fluffy goodness in my mind. But this was not my dorm room. I sat up and inspected the room more, but it was hard to focus because of the pounding sensation at the back of my head. I looked over at the nightstand which had some Advil, water, and a note sitting on it. The note read:

Harrison,
    I hope this helps your headache (I'm assuming you have one). It's just Advil, so it'll help some, but that's all I had. Anyways, I had to run off to a meeting with the Dean. Feel free to have some breakfast or head home if you need to. Just text or call me whenever. -Otto :)

    I reached down to grab the pills and the water bottle. I drank some water to help down the pills since I had never been able to swallow pills dry (only psychopaths could do that, I was sure). Setting the water bottle back on the nightstand, I realized just how disgusting I felt. Every time I was even the slightest bit hungover, I felt so dirty and gross. I so badly wanted to hop in the shower and wash off all of my regrets from last night. From that first glass of wine to throwing up in the garden in front of La Belle's. But I wasn't sure if it was appropriate to take a shower, so I decided I could do that when I got back to my dorm room.

But how was I supposed to get there? I didn't have my car with me. Otto was gone, so obviously him driving me was out of the picture, and there was no way I could call West and ask him to come get me. Not after how he screamed at me over the phone yesterday.

    So I slowly got up out of the bed, leaving the room and turning towards the direction of the kitchen. I could smell those damn pancakes and I was going to seek them out if it was the last thing I did. I walked towards the kitchen like it was some sort of a mission: Find the suspect (pancakes) and get the suspect to surrender (into my mouth).

    When I turned the corner into the kitchen, a startled Jason screamed and dropped the spatula he was holding, splattering pancake mix everywhere. "Jesus mother of fuck! What the hell?! You scared the pancake batter right out of my hands!" He exclaimed, bending over to grab the spatula off of the floor.

    "Sorry," I muttered and as much as I wanted to laugh, I held back the temptation.

    "What are you doing here anyway? Have you been here all night? Am I losing it?" He rambled on. "Maybe I am. I don't know, I am kind of hungover."

"Do you even need me for this conversation?" I asked and took a seat on one of the bar stools.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Why are you here?"

    "I guess I've been here all night, I don't really remember. I have a pretty crappy hangover, too," I said.

    "Is that what Otto was doing out so late?" He asked.

    "Doing what?"

    "You," He grinned and then laughed, flipping a pancake in the process.

    I rolled my eyes. "Haha, very funny, Jason." I reached over to steal a pancake from his plate, setting it on an empty one in front of me.

"Hey!"

I shrugged and took a bite. "For your information, Otto and I didn't do what you're thinking of last night. We were in Grand Rapids having dinner and I got wasted. Not my best decision." I quickly took another bite of the pancake, feeling a blueberry pop as I bit down, releasing a tart, yet sweet taste into my mouth.

    "Grand Rapids?" He questioned. "Interesting."

    "What? Is there something wrong with Grand Rapids?"

    He shook his head and said (with a mouthful of pancake, mind you), "No, nothing wrong with Grand Rapids. I just didn't think Otto would go back there."

    What was that supposed to mean? "Why? What happened in Grand Rapids?" I asked, now very curious as to what was wrong with Grand Rapids.

    Jason kept chewing and said, "You know, forget I said anything. I don't really want to get into all that mumbo jumbo right now. So why don't you just go home? Don't you have homework or something?   

"I would, but I don't really have a way to get home. I don't have my car and," I stopped momentarily to remind myself not to mention West right now, "I don't really have anyone to call to come and get me."   

Jason groaned and practically threw the bowl of pancake mix in the sink, not even bothering to clean it out before he grabbed his keys and said, "Come on. We're going, but I have to make a quick pit-stop along the way." He held a pancake in his hand as he walked past me and towards the door. For Jason, pancakes were apparently a finger-food.

•••

Riding with Jason was honestly terrifying. He went almost 15 miles per hour over the speed limit at all times, even if we were driving in town (where you're supposed to go 30, but Jason was edging on 45). I'm pretty sure he almost ran over a couple pedestrians.

    The only thing that I was really confused about was why Jason seemed to be in such a hurry to get me out of the house after he'd started saying things about Otto (that I got nothing out of, by the way) that he definitely didn't mean to say. And now, there was this mystery of Grand Rapids and Otto. Why did Jason think he would never go back there? And why would he have mentioned it only to not explain it to me?

    "Look, I just gotta get some beer at the store and then I'll take you to the school or wherever the hell you gotta go," he said, taking a sharp turn rather fast. I held onto the safety handle for dear life. Jesus. How did he even get his license?

    "You're seriously getting beer after you just told me about your hangover?" I asked in disbelief. This guy was ridiculous.

    Jason rolled his eyes. "It's not all for me, alright? Christ, what do you peg me for? A literal fucking alcoholic?"

Yes, I thought. But I kept my mouth shut.

"I'm having a party, and the definition of party is: beer," he said. "You know, you're probably invited since you're Otto's girlfriend or whatever."   

"Yeah, cause I need a party. I don't think I can drink for another two years after last night," I said, which reminded me of the throbbing headache I still had.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Just because you go to a party doesn't mean that you have to drink. Plus, you're like 16 anyway. You should probably be holding back a little more. You know, so that you don't become a literal fucking alcoholic?"   

"17," I corrected, "and you're an asshole."   

"Oh wow, thanks. That's always nice to know," he said. "That's honestly the best way to say 'Hey, thanks for the ride Jason. Without you I'd be walking back to school.' Makes me feel real good about myself right now."   

"I'm just saying. Whatever you're doing to West, he's slowly dying on the inside and he's been really bitter and angry lately. It's definitely not typical of West," I said. "Whatever you're doing that's making him so uptight, cut it out."   

"Me? I'm doing something?" He asked, clearly confused.   

"Yes, you are," I said. "West's been incredibly irritable lately and I've never seen him like this. He said you were a really sweet guy, but I'm honestly not seeing that. What I'm seeing is a huge, arrogant asshole and borderline alcohol addict."   

"Oh wow, thanks for that. You really are one with words, you know that? You should have a career as some sort of therapist. This is really helping me out right now." Sarcasm dripped from his words like a leaking pipe.

The car was quiet for a couple of minutes before Jason spoke again.

"Did Otto say something about me acting differently? Is that why you're suddenly prying on this topic? Because if it is, then I have a lot of things I could tell you about him."   

"Like what?" I asked, curious about what he was talking about, but he didn't answer. "Jason, come on."   

"You know what? I'm not like that anymore. I won't tell you." He turned into the parking lot and stopped the car, then facing his body towards me. "You can tell West that if he's complaining, he can go to hell. I'm doing my goddamn best, so I don't need the negativity. Now, if you want to come in, you can. Otherwise, just sit in the car and wait. But you're invited to the party. Courtesy of Otto, and not me by any means. So if you decide to show, don't bring your ignorant accusations along. Leave those at home, will you?"   

With that, Jason got out of the car and slammed the door, then started towards the liquor store.

And now I was left alone thinking about what the hell could be wrong with him and what could possibly be wrong with Otto.    And I needed to know.

•••