Thirty Eight.

When the clock struck two in the afternoon and the sun rose high in San Francisco's sky, Seth's eyes slowly opened from a long drowsy sleep. They caught the ceiling of the room and he blinked several times to adjust his vision.

At first, he felt immobile, his legs and arm laid stiffly on the bed and his body felt too heavy to move. His head pounded as if a thousand speakers were playing on his brain and he groaned.

Damn, he must've drunk a ton the day before. He hadn't done that in a while and now he knew why. Getting hungover was the worst of all consequences.

Slowly, he tried rolling his toes to improve his blood circulation and tapped his fingers against the bed to wake them up. What had happened the night before that had made him drink so hard?

Seth closed his eyes to recollect but his head hurt too much to try and sighed. He would need Advil. A good thing he was in his mother's house then. They may disagree a lot, but she always kept a glass of water and some Advil on the beds