My head hurts. It really fucking hurts. I shouldn't have drank that many Smirnoff Ice's.
I'm not even sure what the hell happened last night. I went out fucking seething at Mark, and then I wound up kissing him in the taxi. After agreeing to be his girlfriend...
Now that was a strange turn of events. Even my banging headache can't take away from the genuine surprise that's still looming over me. I agreed to be his girlfriend. Is that even possible? I mean, is it possible to be in a relationship with someone when you've got no hope of ever falling in love with them? Is it right to put him through it all just to end up breaking that functioning heart of his with my own black heart?
I don't know. I don't really know what it means to be someone's girlfriend. You watch all these films but they never really give you the definition of what it means to be in a relationship with another human being. Do I have any responsibilities? Do I need to do anything special or announce it to the world or anything like that? I honestly have no idea...
A loud groan next to me informs me that Mark's now waking up. Probably with a headache to match mine. I'm pretty sure he drank more than me though, so I wouldn't be surprised if he was on the verge of shooting himself right now. Especially how he was acting last night...
“Fuck my life,” he whines, pulling the cover over his face as he huddles closer. “It hurts.”
“We drank a fuck ton.”
“Don't fucking remind me. Jesus Christ. Kill me now. It would hurt less.”
“Hmm. No thanks. Quite like having you around.”
All I get is another groan. Funny. He hasn't mentioned anything about last night. Has he forgotten? Has the amount of alcohol that flooded his brain totally wiped any memory that he had of the evening? I'm not sure if I want this to be true...or if this strange feeling in my chest is telling me that I'm pissed off at him for forgetting.
“Mark?”
“Hmm?”
“How much do you remember about last night?”
I expect some kind of sarcastic quip about me drinking far too much. Or maybe something about the noises I make when his hand tickles that undiscovered sensitive spot. I particularly expect something about the decision that I made despite so much fuss. But no. All I get is silence...
I turn my head to look at him, but all I see is the duvet. I feel my nose crinkle in confusion as I fail to pull it away. He must be holding it from the inside. The hell...
“Mark?”
“Go away,” I hear him mumble. Oh hell no!
“Get out of there and talk to me.”
“No...”
“I mean it, Mark. Don't make me come in there.”
“Go away.”
He asked for it. I climb under the covers, seeing his face all scrunched up and flushed. He's embarrassed. I push my nose up against him, hearing the little whine escape him.
“Talk to me, Mark,” I whisper. He shakes his head rapidly, face scrunching up even more. He's so cute... “Come on, dumbass. We have to talk at some point. You heard what Hallet said.”
His eyes slowly flicker open, revealing the shame and fear in them. His teeth catch his bottom lip as he looks at me, making those little butterflies dance about. It's at moments like this that I honestly believe that waking up with him is what makes my world go around. If this moment never happened, then my life would seriously be a lot emptier.
