The scent of something bitter and sweet mixed together in a bowl spritzed with fermented cat piss sprawls its way up to my nose, causing my brain to snap back into consciousness in a very unpleasant way. I open my eyes slowly, as though I’m afraid to see light, and I see the chandelier we have in the living room. Though I feel paralyzed, I rise from the surface I am on only to see that I am on the couch. What the fuck am I doing here?
Looking around, my eyes suddenly feel occupied with something I don’t know. I rub my eyes with my forefinger and middle finger, yawing. I widen my eyes to see clearly, but my vision is in a state of blur. This should not be another premonition. Sweet Jesus let this be not a premonition.
Something like an imaginary hammer pounds the back of my head, so I grit my teeth and let a silent moan escape through the little gaps. Aside from the momentary blur and supernovae explosion in my head, I feel nothing more. With this, I am now feeling safe to say that this is not a premonition but instead, a hangover.
This is just a simple, little harmless hangover, nothing like I should worry about. Bluff, who am I even kidding? I desperately need aspirins.
I look around even more, realizing that our living room is now looking a dwelling place of mess; it almost seems like Hurricane Katrina itself knocked on our door for a cup of tea and a little chitchat with its good ol’ friend tornado. The used-to-be organized Living Room set turned into a mixed up post-war chaotic mess. I also see bottles of beer, vodka, and champagne everywhere. There are packs of Doritos and some other junk foods lying on the floor. Worst part? A girl and a boy—Kendall and Tiara—with their hands on each other’s waist having a goodnight sleep.
The only thing I remember is that I came into Dean’s party last night and me kissing Luna and a few rounds of Seven Minutes in Heaven—in which I never got chosen--- and… That’s all. So what the fuck happened here?
Ignoring the disturbing sight of two soul’s unconscious on the floor, I glance at the wall clock and see it’s already eight AM, and I am desperately late for class. Shit. But screw it anyway; I am guessing half of the students probably are suffering hangover right now and could not go to school just like I, so I should not worry.
I stand to my feet as I raise my arms up into a stretch, when Ralph walks out of the kitchen and to the dining table, piles of pancakes on his cooking-gloves-covered hands.
“Shit, man, three of you were hysterical last night!”
“What do you mean?” I rub the back of my head, trying to ease the pain a little bit. “And are those pancakes?”
He puts the plates down on the dining table. “Well, it’s a long story you probably don’t want to hear.” Ralph says as he takes off his gloves and dusts off his hands on his apron. “And yeah, these are my pancakes. Don’t try to lay a hand on my pancakes, these babies are off limits.
“Yeah, right,” I roll my eyes, now massaging the either side of my forehead. “So why did no one clean this mess up?” I gesture around me.
Ralph gives me a flat look. “Who do you think would do that? You guys are cleaning this shit.”
My jaw drops. I am not cleaning this mess. “But you said you joined in so it’s fair if you help clean—“
“WHY IS THE WORLD SPINNING AND WHY AM I SLEEPING ON THE FLOOR?” Kendall bawls out. I look over my shoulder and he’s already trying his best to stand up. He limps his way to us, his left hand rubbing his twitched forehead.
YOU ARE READING
We Villains Love TooTeen Fiction
We Villains Love Too (2012) Being a teenager isn't easy, but being a superhuman is much more difficult. Especially when the teenager's a villain. But do you know what's worse? When the villain falls in love. Having to choose between love and power...