Smirk

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"Ugh," I groan, throwing the blanket over my head to shield the sunlight piercing my eyes.

"Awake yet?" someones says, and there's the clack of a plate being set down.

"Ugh, too noisy!"

"Get up and take some medicine for your headache."

"Ugh, you're too loud."

"Hurry up," a voice scolds, and my sun shield is whipped off my face. The overwhelming brightness and heat burn my face, so I roll to face my back against it.

"So bright," I groan again.

"Here, take this." A pill is paced into my palm and I drowsily pop it into my mouth with my eyes still closed. A straw touches my lips and I sip from it, gulping down the pill.

"Ready to get up?" the voice asks.

"No."

"There's pizza-"

"I'm up," I spring upwards, ripping my crusted over eyelids open. Greg takes the plate of pizza off his nightstand and sets it on the bed. I take a slice in each hand and alternate my bites.

"Good to see you still have your appetite," he chuckles.

"I always have an appetite," I reply, mouth full of tomatoey and cheesy goodness.

"You're a real pain when you're drunk," Greg sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Just because I eat like I'm drunk doesn't mean I am," I frown.

"You don't even remember?" Greg asks, surprised.

"Remember what?"

Now that he mentioned it, I don't remember anything. Where am I? Why am I waking up with Greg giving me pizza. Not like I'm complaining about the free pizza, but why?

"You were drunk last night."

"I was? How?"

"You tell me. Luke said he found you at some party, and you told him to drive you here."

"A party? Why would I go to a party?"

"I'd like to know that too."

"WAIT? WHAT DAY WAS YESTERDAY?" I jump.

"The 31st."

"Yesterday was New Year's Eve?"

"Yeah... why?"

"What time did Luke take me to your house?"

"I don't remember. It was around 11, maybe 11:30 at night."

"Nooo...!" I groan, setting my pizza crust onto the plate and falling onto my side into a heap of sadness. "I can't believe I missed it again this year. It's always because of a stupid party too!"

"Missed what? The fireworks?"

"No, something even better..." I whimper. "Where's my phone?"

"Oh, it fell out on the couch. I'll go get it for you." Greg gets up and takes the plate with him.

"Wait!"

"What?"

"Leave the crust. I didn't get to finish it yet."

Greg walks back and lets me retrieve my pizza crust. I nervously munch on them, trying to figure out how to explain this whole situation to Vincent.

Why is it that I always find myself in these situations? Why do I always have to explain myself?

Greg walks back into the room with more pizza and my phone. I take both from him and check the time on my phone. It's already noon, but I don't see a single call from Vincent. I try to call him, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Started as His Girlfriend (Sequel to "Started as His Tutor")Where stories live. Discover now