BANGERZ (2014)

20. Coming Home

Things seem so weird when I wake up that I'm startled and almost start freaking out. First of all, I feel dazed and languid, like I accidentally took a really long nap. I'm sprawled in my bed face-down, tangled in the sheets, buried in the heap of pillows at the headboard, clutching at something with my arm and leg that isn't there anymore.

Secondly, I realize that Jason was that something, and while I was asleep my body was molded to his, as if I was holding onto him. I probably was. But where is he now? There's no sign that he was even in my room at all last night. Did I somehow dream the whole thing?

This thought brings me to the third thing. It's broad daylight. I sit up and crane my neck to see my bedside clock - it reads ten thirty a.m. Which means that I got a full night's sleep for the first time in two months. That's mind-boggling, but it also means that Jason was here and nothing about last night was a dream. I wonder if I dreamt or had any nightmares at all, because I surely don't remember them. All I remember is drifting off on a cloud of sleep right next to Jason and staying there, so comfortable and secure, that I didn't even notice when he left me.

I try not to feel so disappointed at this as I slide off my bed, and instead try to focus on being content with my victory over my nightmares. As I wash up in my bathroom I realize I only wanted to wake up with Jason under me, my body pressed against his, feeling his soft hair and feverish skin and hard muscles, and maybe share that victory. Because I didn't do it alone.

Regardless, I'm bouncy and well-rested and cheery, and I'm about to bound downstairs and make breakfast when a note taped to my bedroom door stops me in my tracks. I rip it down and examine the scrawl more closely - it's obviously Jason's handwriting, and it's telling me to Come downstairs dressed.

Huh? Confusion muddles my enthusiasm. I can't think of any reason why he'd want me to do this, but I do it anyway, since I have no choice but to follow his instructions. Besides, not knowing what he's planning is part of the thrill. I shower quickly. I brush out my thick waves underneath a beanie and put on some makeup, amazed that my signature smoky eye doesn't have any more bags to hide.

Downstairs, it smells strongly of coffee and I hear low voices coming from the kitchen. I force myself not to look too confused, but then right away I have to hide my expression of total surprise because Jason and Danny are sipping from mugs and having a conversation at the breakfast bar. When they laugh I'm completely taken aback. Caffeine, testosterone, humor? What in the hell is going on?

"Morning," I say to neither in particular, holding up my hand lamely. I kind of feel awkward and intrusive, like I'm interrupting their bro session or something.

Jason swivels in his chair and faces me, giving me a sort of private, mischievous grin. He's dressed in fresh clothes - a leather jacket over a grey hoodie and black skinnies - and his hair looks a little wet like he just showered. His black eye is barely noticeable - I guess the ice helped, and it's not as bad as I thought. Also, something he said on Halloween occurs to me suddenly: I keep clothes in my car. Never know when you're gonna need to spend the night somewhere.

Danny, who's standing behind the counter across from Jason, looks around him and nods at me. "Morning, Tess. We were just waiting for you to come down. How ya doing?"

"Good," I reply slowly, coming around the bar to stand beside Jason. Then, realizing that I need to play along with whatever scheme he fabricated, I clear my throat. "Great, actually. Hope I didn't keep you guys waiting too long."

"Nah," Jason assures me, hopping down from the bar stool. He finishes off his drink. "Besides, your brother makes really good coffee. Almost as good as you."