Needless to say, Sydney was not in the party mood. She approached Michael and Ian a few moments after Adelaide’s outburst looking rundown and lost.

“She hates me,” Sydney said, by way of explanation. “She just---”

“Should I go check on her?” Ian questioned, looking apprehensive. “If she doesn’t want to see you…maybe she needs someone to talk to?”

Sydney shrugged, staring at her sandals. “I don’t know.”

Michael pulled her in for a hug. “Maybe you should, man.” He said to Ian, over the top of her head.

“Yeah, okay.” He started to walk off, but Sydney pulled out of Michael’s grasp and flung herself onto Ian. Taken aback, he held his arms limply at his sides for a few moments before wrapping them around her and looking at Michael with a look of pure confusion on his face. He patted her back absently, feeling awkward.

“I’m so so so so sorry,” she sobbed, sniffing. “I really shouldn’t have stopped cheering for you just because I felt happy and proud to be an American. For the last year I’ve technically been an Australian, and I should have acted that way. I won’t be surprised if you hate me. I hate me. Everybody hates me. It’s perfectly okay, and I understand. Just don’t penalize Addy for my faults.”

“You’re being a bit melodramatic, love,” Ian replied, chuckling; Sydney pulled away from him, backing into Michael, scowling.

“He’s right,” Michael commented, looking down at her. “Nobody hates you. She’s just angry. She’ll get over it.”

“You don’t know Adelaide,” Sydney sniffed again, wiping her face. “And I’m sorry about your shirt, Ian. It’s a really nice one and I cried all over it.”

Ian chortled. “Aw, no problem. I’ll just throw it away and buy a new one.”

“Yeah, because he can afford to replace all of his shirts if, by chance, girls cry on them,” Michael joked.

Sydney sighed deeply and turned to fling herself into Michael’s arms in a dramatic fashion that is normally only used in the movies.

“I’m going to go find Adelaide,” Ian stated suddenly. “I’ll see you later.” He waved and then raced up the hill towards the hotel.

“I don’t want to seem insensitive, but what’s the problem? What did she say to you?”

“You’re not insensitive,” Sydney said into his shirt. “She doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore. I’ve ruined everything by being flighty and stupid. I just didn’t want her to get bored with me and throw me away and forget about me. So I kept us doing fun stuff. Like attempting to steal Ian’s underwear.”

“I don’t think you need to do illegal stunts for her to stay friends with you. I mean, you can’t have been doing illegal stuff all your life, right?”

Sydney laughed thickly. “Maybe. I don’t remember. Nothing really illegal, like killing someone. Only stealing underwear and having parties when we were strictly forbidden. That kind of thing.” She pulled away and wiped her face. “Okay. I’m tired of being snuffly. I’m going to get completely trashed. Let’s go.”

“Do you think that’s the best idea?” Michael asked, following her. “I mean, you’re upset. You probably shouldn’t just be getting drunk and---”

Sydney turned at the doorway to a building Michael didn’t recognize. “It’s the best idea I’ve ever had. Getting drunk and dealing with my problems in the morning is the best distraction the world has to offer.”

“Actually,” Michael said, stepping into the dimly lit room behind her. “I don’t think that it is. But if you say so.”

“What would you say IS?” Sydney questioned, moving towards the bar. “And don’t you dare say anything that involves condoms.”

“I’ve got no answer for you, then,” Michael replied, smirking as Sydney ordered a few bottles of beer.

*

There was some sort of loud construction going on outside the hotel the next morning. Or maybe that was just the pounding in Sydney’s head.

She groaned and rolled away from the glare of the window (the blinds of which were closed, so there was barely any sun leaking through, but it was still too much for her); throwing an arm across her eyes, her fingertips connected with something that didn’t entirely feel like bed, or sheets, or a pillow.

She gasped and sat up straight, bring the covers up to her chin. “AH!!!!!”

Michael catapulted off the bed in horror; from the end of the bed, sitting on the floor, he said, “What‘s wrong?”

“OHMYGOD! I’m going to be sick!”

Michael jumped back onto the bed, peering closely to examine her face. “You look really pale.”

“That’sbecauseIwokeupandIcan’trememberathingthathappenedlastnight! And you‘re in my bed!”

Michael cleared his throat and leaned back against the pillows. “Actually. I think you’re in my bed.” He pointed across the room to where his swim jacket was hanging over the television. His swimming goggles were on the desk, with a pile of speedos and swim caps; the thing that really made it his room was the fact his mp3 player and headphones were sitting next to a large duffle bag.

“Oh, God,” Sydney moaned, shrugging down below the covers. “Where’s my room?” She asked meekly, peering out from under the covers.

When Michael looked down at her, all he could see was the top of her head, her brown hair spilling across the pillow, and her eyes blinking at him. “Your room is probably in your hotel.”

“Right.”

“Which is across the Village.”

“Yes.”

“Which is where you should be?”

“Exactly.” Sydney nodded and sat up, the covers dropping back down to her lap. She suddenly felt very cold, and looked down. “I’m not wearing anything.” Quickly, she brought the sheet back up to her chin.

“No,” Michael agreed, nodding awkwardly. “You’re not.”

“And are you?” Sydney questioned, glancing down.

“I am.”

Sydney breathed a sigh of relief, letting her head drift back down against the soft pillow. “We didn’t do anything, then.”

Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his messy hair. “You don’t remember.”

Sydney didn’t dare look at him; she stared straight ahead, at his jacket. “I remember having a fight with Addy, crying on you and Ian and then getting drunk. Or deciding to get drunk. I don’t remember the actual act of getting drunk.” She sat so she was level with his face. “Were you drunk?”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” That was it. Just ‘oh.’

“You were really upset about Adelaide and you poured a few drinks in you and I had water, because I can’t get drunk…at least until AFTER I’m done swimming. And you did a short dance on a table to “Take Me Out” by Franz Ferdinand, who you announced to the best God-dammed band in the world (next to RHCP) and then you kissed me quite a bit and then we left.”

Sydney swallowed, putting a hand against her damp forehead. “I’m so so so so sorry.”

Michael shrugged, yawning. “We didn’t do anything.”

She peered at him. “No?”

“No, well…I didn’t think it’d be good to let you go back to your room alone, and I figured it wouldn’t be smart anyway, what with Adelaide angry at you, so I suggested you sleep in my bed and I’d take the floor. Only you said that if I slept on the floor I wouldn’t get enough sleep and I needed sleep for the swimming and then you took off your clothes and crawled into bed and tripped me, so I fell in bed too. You were asleep within a few seconds, so I covered you up and got shot of my clothes, except my boxers, and fell asleep. I was really tired.”

Sydney reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck; she exhaled slowly and whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Michael asked, laughing.

“For taking care of my drunk ass. I shouldn’t have done that. It was really stupid. I don’t even drink normally. In fact, I rarely do. But the one time I got really drunk, the same sort of thing happened. Except Adelaide was there to make sure I didn’t do something I’d regret in the morning.” She pulled away and stared at him, tears stinging her eyes. “I wouldn’t have regretted it, with you. I only regretted not remembering.”

Michael hugged her tight. “It’s alright. I understand. I know you were upset.”

She wiped at her eyes. “I’m getting your chest all wet.”

He chuckled. “That happens daily. I’m a swimmer, remember?”

Sydney sighed and pulled away, wrapping the sheet completely around her. “Do you have any idea where my clothes are?”

Michael smirked, and pointed to the floor beneath her feet.

With as much dignity as possible, Sydney scooped them up, said “thank you” and waddled into the bathroom, the sheet wrapped around her like a cocoon.