The Other Girl

Chapter XV

 My eyes shot open as a wave of nausea hit me, doubling me over in pain as I rushed to my bathroom and promptly heaved up my stomach into the toilet basin. Throat burning and skin sticky, I grimaced and glanced at myself in the mirror as another ebb of pain lolled through my brain.

"It's not your best," Jordan joked, leaning on the doorframe as I gargled mouthwash.

"Gee, you think?" I asked sarcastically, rinsing my mouth with tap in an attempt to wash the taste of alcohol away. "I feel like I'm dying. What happened last night? And why are you still here?"

Jordan sobered up at my response, lifting his weight off the frame and taking a comb in hand to start working on my hair. "You asked me to stay," he said between strokes, grey eyes focused on his task. "Anything you usually do for hangovers?"

"I haven't had much experience with absinthe," I admitted, rubbing my temple in a vain attempt to ease the aches. "Did we?"

"I would love to say yes," Jordan said with a small smile, pushing a lock of hair over my shoulder and meeting my eyes in the mirror. Their grey was that of a brooding sea on a cloudy day—mysterious, but comforting and serene. "But no. You fell asleep on the taxi, so I asked Samantha to open the door for me and I carried you in. I was going to leave, but you wouldn't let go of my sleeve... so I stayed."

"Well, other than prevent you from having a good night, what else did drunk-over-heels Stella do?" I asked, sighing in relief as I reached the end of the first round of hangover aches. My memories of last night were still jumbled up together, but flashes were beginning to fall into place. "Wait—I kissed Hunter?"

"Yep," Jordan affimed, laughing as I groaned. "And man, you can really drink! Do you know how many shots of absinthe you had?"

"Enough to die?" I asked, only half-joking. "Was I really that bad at the game? What was it?"

"Never-have-I-ever," Jordan said, shaking his head. "You've never had anal?"

"God," I said, groaning in disgust. "Shut it, Jordan. Did I do anything else I'd regret? Pledge to a sorority, get a tattoo, adopt a horse?"

"I don't think so," Jordan said, setting down the comb and meeting my eyes in the mirror. "Beautiful."

"Enough of the sweet talk," I sighed, looking at myself in the mirror. Eyeliner smudged and lipstick still half-there, everything was a mess—except for my hair. Although it was dull and in desperate need of a shower, it looked good. Jordan had changed my part to the right, and although it was strange seeing my part to the left in the mirror, it looked interesting—the good kind of interesting. "Ever consider a career change? The hair styling world could use your expertise."

"I had a sister, you know?" Jordan asked with a laugh, but his eyes betrayed his thoughts. While he smiled and appraised me in the mirror again, a dimple etched to the left of his grin, his eyes were lost in the past. I turned and hugged him tightly, hoping to convey what he needed.

"Move again and I'll kiss you," he whispered, clutching me tightly.

"What are you waiting for?" I asked, using my hands to guide his mouth to mine. Vodka and citrus... strange, it reminded me of—

---

"She here yet?" Karen asked with a yawn as Quinn and I glanced around expectantly. We were waiting for Stacey to arrive so we could meet up with Whitney—opted out of classes on Friday, a sensible and truly enviable choice—at the mall for another run. Spring was beginning to melt into summer, and my closet needed a makeover.