Shay

twenty one

Monday morning.

My head ached. If I was moving just some bit, I was sure the earth would just rotate faster, or just stop rotating. My body felt dried up, a desert in my mouth, sand in the eyes.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Jenna had to be used to it, but I didn't.

Although this pain almost killed me, my heart made one jump after another.

It wasn't just Monday morning, it was even Monday morning!

I stretched out my body and spread myself on the bed as I suddenly felt Jenna lying beside me.

Jenna.

Saturday night we had been out, and honestly, it had been an escape from reality. An escape that I needed after my kiss with Harry and my deal with John – because it was slowly getting too much. Saturday night had ended not only with my worries, but also with Jenna's life stories and stories about her mother and about her time at this motel that she had told me about, and about how exactly she had decided to go to Walgreen.

I began to like her even more, if that worked. I was sure I could trust her a lot. And with her presence, she made me let myself go and forget about everything because she somehow persuaded me to have a good night and just forget about my worries – vodka included.

My head ached almost as much as yesterday when I had woken up from the adventurous, fun night, but only almost as much. Also, yesterday alcohol had been part of my day when I continued with the remaining lines of my article.

Jenna and I had danced, had sung, drunk, gossiped about Harry and also talked a little about my article – all of that in the middle of her bedroom. Jenna had said that I should think about how I wanted to decorate my article optically.

Of course, I had thought I had nothing to do about that, as it was our editor's job, but apparently it was a good thing to show that I had some ideas concerning my article.

I trusted Jenna to know much about it. In addition, I had come to the conclusion to put together my individual articles about Harry and John, write about the business of both of them and to link them skilfully.

I now rubbed my eyes and exhaled some air I didn't know I was holding, and let my article go through my mind again. I could remember zero of it. What had I written?

God, I had been so drunk the last two days.

I looked at the alarm clock next to Jenna's bed and quickly shook Jenna out from her sleep. "Come on," I almost cried. "We're going to be late."

Jenna couldn't care less as she didn't depend as much on the job as I did. I remembered that I had made many jokes on Saturday night, I had even told her that she could simply continue her career in the cooking industry, because the motel might certainly miss her. She had just laughed and drank another shot before she pulled me to the dance floor.

"I don't wanna..." She murmured now, hiding her face in the pillow as she pressed her body more into her mattress. She was laying on her stomach and hiding her body with her blanket.

If I didn't know better, I'd just get up and go to work myself. But my imaginary car didn't remain as faithful enough to me.

Surely, I was incredibly happy about the fact that it was now much later than whenever I had usually to get up at the very mornings – and I was even happier about the fact that Jenna and I were still seeing each other on Mondays, even though Miss Smith had switched our schedules.

"Well," I muttered. "Then you'll just be late." I shrugged my shoulders and then got up to make my way to Jenna's bathroom.

She was a real a real angel for letting me stay at hers. I have familiarised myself with her home and settled myself just quite well. I had my own toothbrush, shared clothes with her, helped her cooking and cleaning.