Our conversation about the spiked punch is the last clear memory I have of the prom. I have a vague notion that, once the slow dance had finished, the music kept getting louder and faster, and Caroline and I just went with the flow for the rest of the night. But I don't even remember driving home.
I must have driven home at some point, though, because I regained consciousness with the sun in my face. Cautiously, I opened one eye, and the first thing I saw was the blurry display on the clock radio next to my bed: 11:58 A.M.
I turned over, noting that my muscles ached something fierce (not a sensation I was used to -- I wasn't big on physical activity). I stretched, and my left hand whacked against a jumbled pile of sheets and blankets that took up half my bed.
The pile moved, and a female voice from inside mumbled, "Urrrgh...five more minutes, Mom."
It took my sleepy brain a few seconds to process this, but eventually I managed to blurt out a reasonably intelligent-sounding "Caroline?!"
The pile of linens moved again, enough that Caroline's face was revealed up near the head of the bed. She looked at me and blinked. "What are you doing in my bed?"
"Your bed?" I looked around the room, just to make sure. Yep, same tired- looking Ikea furniture, same ancient computer, same old poster of Seven of Nine. Therefore, I was able to declare emphatically, "This is my bed."
Caroline made a sound that vaguely resembled "plfft." "Then why am I in it? I always sleep on the hide-a-bed in your dad's den when I spend the night here."
"Uh, I have to pee," I said, and left my bedroom to walk to the bathroom down the hall. I did have to pee, but I also wanted to take a little time to think. My first thought was that we'd had sex -- and I'm not sure what it says about me, but I was more worried about losing my parents' trust than anything else. (They already trusted me enough that they'd gone to Cleveland for the weekend, although to be fair, they'd already been planning the trip, and had bought the tickets and everything before I'd decided to go to the prom. But they trusted Caroline, too, maybe even more than me.)
However, I was still in my tuxedo shirt and slightly-too-tight pants, and as I relieved myself, I figured that I would have taken them off -- well, at least the pants -- and not bothered to put them back on if I'd had sex with Caroline.
I finally decided that Caroline was only in bed with me because we'd both been incredibly tired after the prom and just collapsed together. I walked back into my room, I saw that Caroline had gotten up and was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing her now- rumpled prom dress, and I was just about to make that proclamation -- but I didn't get a chance because things, well, changed.