Perrie Lancaster has zero plans after college. No dream job she's working toward, no one to impress, and no care for anything other than making her last two years of college one big party.
Levi Saints wants nothing more than to follow his dream of t...
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Loud voices echo through the house. Girls giggling and some yelling at each other about products or toothpaste or something that could easily wait until at least noon.
My cheek presses against my pillow and a long groan leaves my lips as I attempt to move my arms and push myself up. A heavy breath escapes me. My stomach clenches and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the nausea to go away.
Footsteps thud across the hardwood floor outside my room and the sound grates my ears. Why do they have to be so loud all the time?
The bedroom door slams open and I whimper as the sound echoes in my head. I slump back onto the bed and cover my head with a pillow.
"Why are you still in bed? Your first class starts in half an hour," Nova's unnecessary loud voice scolds, walking into my room and pulling the curtains open. Why does she hate me so much? "Your first class starts in half an hour, Perrie, Did you hear me?" I can sense her glare throw the pillow.
My mouth opens in a silent cry when she rips the pillow from my head. I want to sob like a baby but that'll only make my headache worse.
"What time did you get back last night?" One crusty eye cracks open to find her standing in front of me, a hand on her hip. She's wearing ripped jeans with a loose crop top and a bandana wrapped around the top of her head, securing her tight curls.
I stare down at her beat-up sneakers. "I got home at a reasonable hour," I mumble defensively, crawling out of bed. My movements are slow, like wading through syrup.
With it being the last night before classes officially began, a bunch of people I knew wanted to go to O'Connors for some drinks. After that, the party moved to someone's house. From then on, the rest of the night was a blur. Nova stayed home, wanting to prepare herself for all her pre-med classes like she hadn't been doing that all week since the charity dinner.
"I said come home at a reasonable hour not 'get home at a reasonable hour and completely catatonic'," she argues, throwing random clothing pieces at me.
Grabbing a pair of black sweatpants and a colorful loose shirt, my body slides off the bed completely until I'm standing on two solid feet. She shoves the green shower caddy into my arms. My eyes dart to the door. Clearing my throat, I mumble, "Is anyone in the bathrooms?"
She blinks, pursing her lips fighting back the urge to say something I know she's dying to say. Instead, she shakes her head. "Everyone's been up for hours trying to get picture-perfect ready for their first day."
"Thanks," I whisper feeling self-conscious in my current state. Pressing a hand to my forehead, I open the door and slip into the hallway. Girls dart from bedroom to bedroom, bursting with energy about the first day.
