Brian flushed the toilet and leaned against the stall door. He pressed the back of his wrist against his mouth and swallowed several times to fight his nausea.
No good.
He rushed forward and vomited into the toilet again. One day he would learn the limit of his alcohol tolerance. Apparently, today wasn't the day.
"Dude, do you need me to hold your hair for you?" Eric called from outside the stall. He snickered.
"Fuck you," Brian gasped, and threw up again.
"That's a lot of perfectly good beer you're wasting."
"If you want it, come get it."
Brian leaned against the cool, metal partition and flushed the toilet with his foot. He stood there for a moment and finally decided he felt well enough come out of the stall.
Eric looked at him hopefully. "Better?"
Brian nodded slightly.
"You've gotta stop letting chicks get to you."
Tell him something he didn't know.
