THE 22ND OF DECEMBER

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The 22nd of December

...

It's the light from the windows that wakes him up, along with the throbbing headache his hangover is causing. He opens his eyes, squinting them. The memories suddenly come rushing to him. The party, the alcohol, the kisses, the touches, the sex.

He's not sure why he turns on his side to look, 'cause he already knows the answer. She's left. Rob doesn't blame her.

Her intoxicating smell still lingers on his sheets, and he can't get himself to get up from his bed just yet.

Closing his eyes, he falls back asleep.

...

When he wakes up again, he looks at his phone. Seeing it's 2 PM, he's suddenly glad he's booked on a flight at 8 instead of 3, - or worse yet, 11 - like the majority of the crew. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he gets out of bed and goes to the kitchen. He tries to ignore the ache in his chest when he sees Kristen isn't there.

Going over to the counters, he finds some bread and puts it in the toaster.

His head is pounding, making him regret not taking any pills last night.

He eyes the coffee machine, then decides to drop coffee because the idea of drinking it makes him nauseous.

The toaster plings, and he takes off the bread. He skips putting anything on it, the thought of butter and jam making him queasy as well.

He sits down by the island, eating the plain white bread and occasionally taking a sip of water.

Looking at his phone, he realises it's almost three. There's two hours till they're going to the airport.

Swallowing the last piece of his breakfast, he cleans his dishes and puts them back in the cupboards.

When he reaches the door to the bathroom, he stops, hearing sounds. It comes from Kristen's bedroom. Listening closely, he realises it's strums on a guitar. He furrows his brow. He hasn't heard her play since they came to Canada. Why are you playing now? You used to only play for yourself when you had too much to think about.

Rob gulps, his head suddenly hurting even more. Opening the door to the bathroom, he enters.

...

A knock on the door stops him from packing. Leaving his bedroom, he goes out in the hallway to open. It's Em, the scriptwriter.

"Hey Rob, are you ready? We're leaving in thirty minutes."

"Yeah, I just need to pack the last couple of things."

"What about Kristen?" Em asks, biting her lip as she tries not to smile.

"No clue," Rob answers. He hasn't spoken to her all morning. He's barely even seen her.

"Will you tell her that we're leaving in half an hour?"

"Sure."

"Oh, and when you're done packing, come over to Steph and Nat's cottage. There's coffee - and homemade waffles," Em tells him with a smile.

"I'll hurry," he says, smiling back at her.

When Steph has left, he goes down the hallway to finish packing, but stops by Kristen's door. Hesitating, he knocks. A couple of seconds pass before she answers. "Yes?"

"Em was just here. We're leaving in thirty minutes. Are you ready?"

"Yeah." Silence. "You?"

"Almost. There's coffee and waffles in Steph and Natalie's cottage, when you want."

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