“Holy crap!” The soft exclaim was enough to jerk me out of semi-consciousness into full on awake.
“What?” I muttered, rubbing my eyes, before freezing all over.
I had a mild panic attack when I noticed that the voice had come from next to me in the bed. My whole body tensed. How much did I drink last night? What the hell had I done?
Then the moment of realisation hit me.
I asked him to stay - actually I practically begged him – and he did.
My eyes slowly went up, recognising his shirt from last night (but now rumpled from sleep), all the way to his disorientated face, confirming my hazy memories of last night to be true. He was here.
He was sitting half up on the bed, his eyes soft brown eyes gouging me for some reaction nervously. “Shit, I’m s-sorry Willow, I fell asleep.” He admitted, looking worried as he ran a hand through his hair.
I shrugged my shoulders. Now that the initial shock of waking up with a boy next to me was gone, I wasn’t all that bothered. It was Derek. “No worries.” I yawned flopping backwards on my bed to lie down again.
No harm done. The more pressing matter was the pounding headache.
I’ll never drink that much ever again. I vowed silently to myself. I never usually drank that much. Last night was an exception.
My head throbbed once again, and I threw my arm over my eyes to try and shield them from the light pouring into my room.
“Willow?” Derek said my name as a question, his voice still sounding half terrified of what had happened. “I’m really sorry that I fell asleep. I didn’t mean too.”
I shook my head and regretted it when it made my headache worse. “Don’t worry about it.” I said, lifting my arm so that he could see the sincerity in my eyes.
When my eyes slid over to where he was still watching me intently, I could see the panic in his eyes.
He’s cute in the morning. I realised. His curly hair was even messier than usual, in a cute dishevelled way, and his glasses were slightly askew on his nose. I banished the thought from my mind.
“Honestly that was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in days.” I admitted shamelessly, amused to see a small blush rise to his cheeks, but he seemed to relax a bit.
“What’s wrong then?” He asked, his eyes scanning over me, as I lay sprawled out, my arm still hovering above my eyes.
“Headache.” I winced, pointing to my head.
His lips twitched up slightly as realisation set in. “Hangover.” He corrected. I scowled at his unhelpful comment.
“Drinking sucks.” I pouted, with a small groan.
He was smiling now. I didn’t even have to look at him to know. “I’ll get you some medicine.” He said climbing out of the bed. “Where do you keep the Advil?”
“On top of the cabinet furthest right in the kitchen.” I directed. I heard him leave the room and I forced myself to sit up again, propping myself against the headboard.
It didn’t take long for Derek to return. My heart warmed at the sight of him carrying a tall glass of water and tablets.