One Drunken Night

nine: pain

A/N: this chapter is dedicated to my new found friend Victoria who is equally obsessed with youtubers as I am ;) Enjoy chapter 9!

Kelly’s

 

The Road Trip

Monday morning

I scramble around the house, up and down the stairs, trying to pull my shit together. Blame my log-like, heavy-sleeping genes for missing the alarm again. In my defence, 4am is earlier than the first birds to catch the worms. Most holidays, I don’t even hit the bed until I see the Eastern gleam.

My canvas bag was spilling with tardily folded clothes and bundled up skinny jeans. Honestly, I have no idea how many sets there are, and how long they would last me. I rummage through my drawers to get some on-hand cash, checking my wallet to make sure my debit card did not grow wings overnight and fly away. Quickly ticking off the list Jaclyn sorted out, I still don’t dare claim I am ready for this road trip.

I grabbed the file containing our itinerary, tickets and road map. Yes, we know that modern day people would use satellite maps or iPhone apps to navigate, but we felt using those were just too mainstreamed. (We are not hipsters, thank you.) The phone in my hands suddenly cries out an Arctic Monkey’s tune, which almost makes me drop the file on the floor.

“I know, I know. Just give me five minutes,” I beg, not even bothering to address the caller. My punctuality was never en pointe and the last thing he could be is patient. That entirely explains why he and Clayton are best friends.

“Come on! At this rate, we aren’t going to catch the Sunrise at 17 Mile Drive,” He laments, pinning the blame on me.

“Yeah I could pack faster if you’d stop nagging,” I push the blame back, acting like a spoilt 2000s kindergartener. He huffs loudly into the receiver and hangs up the call. I shove my laptop, a Pillow Pet and Looking for Alaska into my bag and swiftly zip up the stuffing.

I hobble outside, the weight of the bag overwhelming my small frame, enough to break my bones. A sleek raven Cadillac is parked in the driveway; what happened to his Volkswagen? Just how rich is this man?

Ethan looks refreshed, which is surprising for someone who behaved unresponsively until I shoved him on the floor. Its 4 a.m. in the morning, for goodness sake; its too early to be alive!

“You going to open your trunk?” I ask, puzzled as to where to dump my belongings.

“Just throw them in the backseat,” He motions towards the already unlocked door. I grab my headphones and rainbow-striped furry Unicorn pillow pet before settling myself comfortably in the passenger seat.

He sneers at the sight of my fluffy little friend. I ignore his negativity. At least I would be in comfort, hugging a soft toy to sleep, while he keeps his eyes strained on the road for coon’s age.

“What are you, five?”

“Shut up,” I plug in my iPod, turning on my Cinematic Orchestra playlist. I snuggled into the curves of the leather seat, clutching the unicorn close to my chest in case he dares try anything funny. The last sound I heard was the engine roaring and his movements on the accelerator, before my lethargy drifted me away into slumberland.