hurricane // bridgit mendler

[thirty-three]

Hurricane Chapter 33

I jumped as I heard the crackling of lightning, causing me to go off track and I felt nailpolish brush across my toe. Cursing silently, I took the bottle of nailpolish remover, poured some on a cotton ball, and removed all of the light blue nail polish, not even in the mood for painting my toes anymore.

Two days ago, the coast guard evacuated all homes on the beach and forced us to either move out of state or more inland because of hurricane watch. Nick, Mom, and Dad didn't have to worry much since, a couple of weeks ago, they went to see some relatives in Washington DC (That's why they didn't know about my hyperventilating), so I decided to stay in a family house roughly 30 long blocks from the Pacific.

It was dark outside, raining and storming, and I was completely alone. Jonas left California for Nevada after I was discharged a week ago, and my internet connection and cellular service was acting up because of the storm. So, that means no contact with the outside world at all.

I decided to get off my bum. I swung my legs off of the couch, slipped on some furry green socks, and padded my way towards the kitchen.

"Cheetos...Doritos...Cheerios..." I said quietly to myself. Crap. I knew I should've went grocery shopping yesterday.

I hopped up on the counter and began to play some music on my phone. I thought for a moment, and helplessly picked up the box of Cheerios and began munching on them.

I felt my hands begin to shake and I shut my eyes tightly, knowing what this meant. I was going to think...think about Lola...Shane...Mr. Styles...Harry.

And I couldn't do that, not yet anyways. So, I clenched my fists, crushing the Cheerios I was holding into an unrecognizable dust.

It's all so pathetic, I know. I called Derek right after I was discharged and told him to tell Caroline that I wasn't doing the GLC finale; they could either find someone who looked like an older me or cancel it all together. I banished Harry from my life after I tried to kill him with a pillow. And now, Shane and Lola told me that his dad is a lying drug dealer. How the hell am I supposed to tell him that?

I guess I can't. That's up to Lola and Shane. For all I know, they're still trying to end Harry's career.

I clenched my fists tighter. This was thinking, and I couldn't think right now. I reached down, under the counter, and closed my hand on the neck of a small bottle of tequila that I remember Nick snuck here a year ago. It was half full (thinking optimistic), but I didn't care. I laid back on the hard surface and drunk a little as Royals by Lorde came on. It burned my throat. I wasn't really a tequila person, but I heard that it really does the trick when you're feeling horrible.

I didn't drink any more of it. I sat it beside me and sighed.

"But, every song's like gold teeth, grey goose, tripping in the bathroom; blood stains, ball gowns, trashing the hotel room. We don't care. We're driving cadillacs in our dreams."

Is this how it's going to be for me? I can't be one of those Disney stars that end up all weird and hopeless. So, I picked myself up and off of the counter and fell to the hard, wooden floor in surprise as the lights came off.

"But everybody's like crystal, Maybach, diamonds on your timepiece, jet planes, islands, tigers on a gold leash. We don't care. We aren't caught up in your love affair."

I was in deep, aching, bruising pain. My ears were filled with Lorde and the occassional booming of thunder and crackling of lightning.

I laid on my back, trying not to think about how I hurt all over. But, my bliss was soon over when I heard my doorbell ring.