Little Things

Chapter 27

"Just call him," Morgan commands me.

"No."

"Why?" 

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because I said so."

She rolls her eyes and falls backwards onto my bed. We are both sitting across from eachother, with my phone in between us. It has been a back and forth bicker for what seems like the past hour, debating on whether or not to call my previous man of the night. I had been close to calling him a few times, and actually got to the point of dialing his number, but then exiting out like the chicken I am. 

"I don't understand you at all Allyson," she sighs.

"Actually, you understand me more than anyone," I admit.

"Then I don't know how anyone else can deal with you."

She sits up again, snatching my phone from over the sheets.

"Fine, then I'm calling him," she snaps, already searching his name in my contacts.

"No!" I shout at her, trying to grab the phone, but it is out of reach. I continue to try to retrieve it until I hear the muzzled sound of a voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hey there, Kevin," Morgan says and I can't make out his reply.

"Oh no, I'm a good friend of her's though. Really good friend on that," are they referring to me?

Obviously, who else would he be talking about that's good friends with Morgan. Sometimes I wonder why Harvard ever offered me a scholarship when I have irrational thoughts like this. I guess there's a difference with being book smart and just being stupid, and apparently you can be both.

"I think she and I both would love if you came over for another drink," Morgan smirks and my stomach drops. She did not just offer that. Or did he offer to see us? Or just me?

"Tonight?" I mouth to her, so theres absolutely no chance he can hear me. I don't want him to know I don't want him to come over.

"Tonight?" she repeats into the phone.

"No!" I whisper-shout. It's not that I don't want to see him. It's just, I don't want him to see me like this. I do like him, maybe not as anything more than a friend for right now, but I don't want to spoil anything we could potentially have.

"Tonight is great!" she smiles.

"Okay, see you then. Make sure to bring whine," she clicks the phone off.

"See, how bad was that?" she says, returning the phone back to me.

"How could you offer him to come over tonight! I'm still hungover from last night and I haven't even showered," I whine.

I lift up my arm to smell myself, and I'm surprised when the lingering scent of my cheap perfume is still on me. That's a good thing, right? Minus the reek of alchohol in my breath. I should probably get on brushing my teeth too. And take some more advil for this massive headache that is fortunately starting to fade minute by minute. I make a mental note to not drink that heavily for a long while. And stick to water for the rest of the week. 

Well, maybe just a drink or two. 

I do have to de-stress my self.

"Don't worry. You worry too much. He's not coming til seven," she reassures me.

"What time is it now?" I ask as I turn my head over to my alarm clock.

"Five thirty," she says just as I read it myself.