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I awake the next morning to an agonizing pounding in my head.
My eyes flicker open slowly, their bleariness providing minimal protection against the sunlight that is streaming through the gap in the drapes. Ignoring the pain that goes shooting through my skull, I slowly turn my head against the pillow, trying to take in my surroundings.
Wait, hold on a second…
It takes me a total of three seconds to realize this isn’t my room.
I jolt upwards into a sitting position in record timing, my eyes frantically searching the area I’m contained in. Blue drapes, pale washed walls, the hardwood floor... unless my mom’s been a little too creative and redecorated overnight, this is definitely not my room.
Which immediately begs the question: where the hell am I?
My gaze trails downwards and I peel the comforter away so I can get a better look at myself. An oversized shirt which I don’t recognize hangs on my body, finishing just below my butt. My eyes widen as an automatic reflex. These are definitely not my clothes, either.
I’m in a stranger’s room, wearing a stranger’s clothes.
Oh my God, what if I’ve been raped?
No, Georgie, I tell myself furiously as I force my fast-paced breathing to return to a normal rate. In a situation like this, I can’t jump to conclusions. What I really need to do is find out what the hell is going on. Not to mention all this panicking is only making my throbbing head even worse.
What I’d do for an aspirin right now.
Last night was Connor’s party, wasn’t it? That much I can remember. Ava and I getting dressed up and sneaking in... the rest of it’s a hazy blur, roughly punctuated by memories of dancing or downing drinks. Probably not a good sign.
Then, the rattling of a door handle from across the room makes me jump violently.
Just as my head snaps in that direction, the door to what I assume is a bathroom swings open. No more than one second later, a familiar dark-haired guy saunters out, dripping wet and with a towel wrapped around his waist.
Which is about the same time my worst fears are realized.
Number one: this is Connor’s room.
Number two: I’m in Connor’s bed and have been all night.
Number three: Connor has just walked in practically naked whilst I’m lying in his bed.
Is it just me or is this slightly weird?
“Oh,” he says, when he notices me sitting up in bed with my mouth half-open. His tone remains completely indifferent, like it’s completely normal to find a half-clothed girl lying in his bed without a single recollection of last night’s events. Unless that is normal for him. “You’re awake.”
Apparently, that’s all he has to say.
“Um, yeah...” My voice sounds croaky so I cough awkwardly. “Uh... I’m in your bed.”
YOU ARE READING
Friendship for DummiesHumor
"Being reunited with your childhood best friend after eight years apart? Sounds like a heart-warming story. Finding out that said best friend is now a complete jerk who's determined to make your life hell? Not so much." Georgie and Connor were once...