You, Me and Everything in Between [Wattys 2016]

Chapter 6 - Retribution

It's then I notice a message that makes my chest tighten with equal parts joy and fear. Dylan's name flashes up, and as I scroll through the short correspondence, I read aloud the words I'd apparently sent him at ten minutes past midnight with horror.

His reply to my auto-correct jumbled question about having coffee is thankfully short, and sweet.

Hey, good to hear from you. I'm free Saturday morning if you wanted to grab a coffee. Pick a place and I'll be there. Dylan

"Anyone important?" Ruby asks whilst I trace his name with my finger.

"Um...just some guy I met at the gig last night. Seems like I drunk texted him. I am literally the worst."

"What! Why didn't you say anything?" She's grins. "Is that why you were outside for ages?"

I nod, try to act casual. "Just a guy I spoke to for a while. He's nice."

"And.... ? Come on. He must have been better than nice for you to have given him your number!"

"Can we talk about this later, over some brunch? Once I've had at least three cups of coffee please?" I laugh. I don't mind her interest but my heads spinning, and I'm still floating on a cloud of uncertainty about actually honouring my original request and Dylan's acceptance of it.

"Okay fine, but I want all the details," Ruby sounds serious, and then she gives me my marching orders to take a shower because apparently I don't only taste like tequila but I smell like it too. "The bathrooms the third door down the hallway, on the right."

It takes a lot of effort, and dry heaving before I manage to turn the shower on. And even though it's a walk in, complete with dual heads and fancy little bottles of shampoo like you'd get at a hotel I have to crouch in the corner till the steam sucks out the urge to spray the walls with a technicolor yawn.

When the nausea subsides and I'm washed clean of last nights grime, I search the sink draws for a make up wipe to remove the remains of thick eyeliner and black mascara that's streaked down my cheeks.

After looking at myself in the mirror I realise again that I can't handle a hangover like I did back in my late teens or early twenties. When I could party till the sun came up and still have the energy to do it all again the next night. Now I'm a useless lump huddled up in Ruby's shiny white catalogue worthy bathroom.

Once I've moped on her bathroom floor, I sober up enough to re-enter the land of the able living and I find Ruby sat up at the breakfast counter, swinging her legs in time with the loud music she's playing from her laptop. Just watching her movements leaves me feeling queasy again.

Propping myself up with one arm on the counter for support I ask how she can be so spritely, and alive. Why she's not wallowing in self pity and a hangover the size of grand canyon like I currently am.

"I have been hungover before Jemima," She laughs. "Last night wasn't the first time I've drunk, it just doesn't seem to affect me that much."

"Can we do one of those body swaps, like in the movies then because I'm suffering and I don't think I'll make it through the day," I groan back.

"Fresh air and some food will sort you out. There's this cute little cafe down the road I want to write about for the feature next week. They do the best eggs Benedict in the world."

"Food smood," I drawl stretching my arms, the tension from sleeping on a sofa all night releasing slowly. "Need more coffee. Strong coffee."

"Sure."

As I help myself to another much needed glass of water, I lean back against the sink and take in my alien surroundings, all the high ceilings and vanilla washed walls.