Love & Great Buildings

FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

Rosemary cracked her eyes open, squinting in the bright sunlight that had flooded the room. It took several minutes for her to shake the disorientation of sleep off enough to recognize the familiar cluttered mess of Jules' living room. She sat up and immediately regretted such hasty action. Her vision swam and it felt as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to her temples. Repeatedly. "Oh God," she croaked and winced at the grating sound of her own voice. "Kill me now."

A pained groan sounded from somewhere near the couch. Jules. Rosemary took a perverse sort of pleasure knowing that she wasn't the only one feeling much like death warmed over. God, they had sorely overdone it.

"Only if you kill me first." Jules' voice was muffled by several layers of blanket that, in any other circumstance, would have been utterly hysterical.

"Not quite how that works."

She fumbled feebly for her purse, seeking the blessed paracetamol she kept stored there. And water. God, she needed water. But water was in the kitchen. Going to the kitchen involved standing. Standing was something she knew she absolutely did not want to do. She silently cheered as her fingers clutched around the small, plastic bottle and pulled it from her bag. Step one, complete. Now came the hard part.

Gritting her teeth, Rosemary struggled to pull herself first onto her knees and then slowly, so so slowly, to her feet. The world only faded in and out of focus for a few moments and once it settled, she steeled herself for the harrowing journey towards the kitchen. I am never drinking again.

One cautious step and then another. Slowly, she stumbled into the kitchen, blatantly ignoring the switch for the overhead light. She very much doubted she could handle the bright flickering of fluorescent lighting at this point. The kitchen was dim, the lighting from the hall providing enough illumination for Rosemary to locate and grab a glass from the cabinet above the sink. She hesitated for a moment before grabbing another and shutting the cabinet door. If she was in desperate need of water than no doubt so was Jules.

Two glasses full of cool tap water, Rosemary made her way back into the living room. She paused at the lump of blankets on the couch. "Water," She intoned before setting the glass onto the wooden top of the coffee table. A pale arm poked its way out from beneath the covers and the voice underneath mumbled thanks.

Rosemary laughed, wincing at the pain it caused. Right. Paracetamol. She needed paracetamol and now. She grabbed the pill bottle she'd placed on the table and deftly popped its lid, pouring two tablets into her hand. She washed them down with water and walked back towards Jules' prone form.

"Here," she stated, dropping the bottle on top of the blankets.

Jules pulled the covers off her head, grimacing at the brightness. "Please tell me you threw paracetamol at me. Because if you tossed a packet of gum on me I will kill you." She attempted to glare at Rosemary but the effect was diminished by her overall look of pained confusion.

"You'd have to catch me first, sunshine, and in such a state I think I can outrun you, hangover or no." Rosemary smirked, taking pity on her pathetic friend, grabbed the bottle and thrust it into Jules' outstretched hand.

"Bless you."

"I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart," Rosemary quipped, "You are a bloody bitch when you're hungover and I can only deal with one of those at a time."

Jules only response was a raised middle finger.

Rosemary cocked an eyebrow, laughed, and then grimaced as another stab of pain flooded her temples. She slowly lowered herself back onto her makeshift bed on the floor and grabbed the glass she'd left on the edge of the table. She quickly downed the rest of her water and closed her eyes, praying that the medication would kick in soon. It would be nice to not feel like her head was going to explode at any moment.