AN: this actually begins when Lilah wakes up the morning after the party, so it will overlap slightly with the last chapter.
I wake up in an unfamiliar bed next to the unconscious body of a guy. That sounds kinda sketch, but honestly it's pretty common for me to wake up next to sleeping boys, especially after parties. Damn, I'm a player. As if on cue, as soon as I start thinking about the party, my head throbs, reminding me just how much I drank last night.
If this were some cliche sappy romance movie, I would wake up completely refreshed after the best sleep of my life, stretch, look over at the man next to me, and smile contently, all the while looking like I walked straight out of a Loreal commercial, complete with full makeup and perfect hair that spread across my pillow and looked windblown but not tangled.
Alas, what occurs next is the exact opposite. I am not refreshed, not in the slightest, because contrary to getting the best sleep of my life, I got little to no sleep because I was fucking all night and then slept in an awkward position, half on the guy next to me and half off, and while that position looks really adorable on a TV screen, it is so uncomfortable in real life. My stretching is accompanied by tortured groans, wincing, and painful back cracking. That ouchie adds to my hangover-induced headache. And when I glance over at my still-sleeping one night stand, I sigh and roll my eyes at seeing Dylan. Shit, that asshole's never gonna let me forget this. Sleeping with him is definitely gonna inflate his ego. I don't need to see a mirror to know that I must look like Chuckie's wife. This couldn't BE any more different from the Barbie everyone sees me as. And now my inner monologue talks like Chandler Bing. Fun times!
I decide to leave. Yeah, probably best to avoid the awkwardness that comes with the morning after a hookup. I find my clothes and get dressed. I Uber home and just my luck, my driver is an elderly grandma-type who gives me dirty looks throughout my ride home of shame. Could she BE any more judgy?
When I get back home, I immediately trudge upstairs, change into the oversized T-shirt I use as pajamas, collapse onto my bed, and pass out instantly.
Next thing I know, I'm rudely awaken from my wonderful, R-rated dream featuring Cole Sprouse by my dear birth giver yelling,
"Lilah! Get down here! There's a hot boy at the door who has your phone!"
Grumbling discontently, I mentally promise my darling Cole that I'll come back to him before rolling, literally, (ouchies) out of bed and falling down half a flight of stairs (double ouchies) and finally getting to my feet to trudge down the remaining few stairs.
True to my mom's words, Dylan stands awkwardly at the door, holding my phone. I catch him staring at my bare legs, but decide to not call him out on it because that would make this already painful situation even more uncomfortable.
"Hey Lilah," he greets me. Too tired to willingly speak, I just raise my eyebrows at him. He hands me my phone, saying, "Here's your phone."
I turn around, ready to resume my sleep and unconscious dirty deeds with Cole Sprouse, when I hear him say with an impressive voice crack, "Wait!"
I turn back around, impatient, and completely not expecting what he said next.
"Look, last night was really fun and I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me..." He rushes out, his nerves clearly written all over his face.
Wow. I make the bad boy nervous. That's actually kinda validating. Wait! Shit! He asked me out. Poor dumbass must like me. Shit, shit, shit!
I try to think of the nicest way to reject him, and the best I can come up with is,
"Look, last night was fun and all, but it didn't mean anything. I'm not looking for a relationship. Sorry if you got the wrong idea," I say, totally uncomfortable.
He nods and leaves. I hope he didn't take that too badly. He might have been a dick in our few interactions, but hey, I still have a heart.
It's not really anything personal against Dylan, but ever since my dad walked out on us when I was eight, I have been absolutely terrified of serious relationships.
The reasoning behind my fear of commitment is that my mom gave everything to my dad. Her family hated absolutely him, to the point that they cut all ties with her when she married him. She was totally and absolutely in love with him, and yet he just abandoned her, tossed her out like yesterday's trash. She was seriously depressed for months afterward, and only pulled herself together when she realized that her young, now fatherless daughter needed her. After that, the only time I saw him was when I was nine and he came back to sign the divorce papers. I remember my mom had begged him then to stay, not to get a divorce, but he ignored her. She had sobbed for days afterward. It was a huge setback for her. She now had no husband and no family.
I respect my mom so much. I aspire to be as strong as she is. She was brave enough to defy her family for love, and when that love left her, she battled her depression and eventually defeated it. And on top of that, she has been a single mom for the last seven years.
But I have also taken her story as a cautionary tale, the moral being that falling in love only makes you vulnerable. Relationships will trap you, and pull you down, and eventually it will all have been for nothing because they will end. So you can't allow yourselg to get sucked in too deep. You can't let your feelings grow too much, because then the aftermath will be that much worse.
I'm fine with friendships and casual, meaningless hookups, but romantic relationships are a definite NO for me. I've slept with more guys and occasionally girls than I can count on my fingers, but I've never actually had a boyfriend or girlfriend, and I don't intend to.
AN: Another long chappie! Are you proud of me? Ik I am. I feel like this story has definitely improved, and it's just gonna get better from here. *evil laugh* The author has been plotting! So y'all got some background on our dear Lilah. What do y'all think? Will she ever get over her fear of commitment? Be sure to comment!
Also, I just saw that Pretty Dumb hit #21 in cheerleader!!! Ahhhhh!!!! Y'all are amazing and I'm honestly so thrilled abt this!!!! *gets up and starts twerking out of joy*
Ps. I've been thinking of starting to end every AN this way. Whaddya think?
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Pretty DumbTeen Fiction
Lilah Green. Ask anyone, and they will tell you that she is the cliche gorgeous popular dumb airhead bitch. Dylan Mitchell. Ask anyone, and they will tell you that he is the cliche hot douchebag player. But what if they were both more than their st...