Summer Girl || A Shourtney Story

.07 running from the heat

The morning after absolutely crawled by. Ian's idea to throw a party halfway through the filming schedule seemed like a bright one about 24 hours ago. Now, regret saturated the air.

My head pounded unapologetically as if taunting me for my partying last night. Of course, in the moment, it didn't matter. I had a fun time. But my liver had other opinions this morning. The physical pain, coupled with sheer confusion about the almost kiss with Shayne, made me want to bury myself in my sleeping bag until the end of time.

"Fuck," Olivia muttered from the top bunk. "Too much tequila."

I groaned in agreement. I just had woken up, and it already felt like this day could never end. The sunlight streamed through our windows with unnecessary force. Everything hurt.

"What's the schedule for today?" I asked, unwilling to leave my bunk.

"Let me check..." she replied. "Looks like everyone is dying, so they pushed back filming. We're doing Giant Operation this afternoon."

"Fantastic," I retorted sarcastically. "I'm gonna chug a Gatorade and go back to sleep."

"Can you get me one?" she asked weakly. "I think I'm gonna throw up again."

I chuckled lightly, but then my headache grew stronger. "Damnit, even laughing hurts. I'll be back."

Inch by inch, I unzipped my sleeping bag and stood up. If we were home, my hangover would be the perfect excuse to binge Grease and hibernate in my apartment. Instead, I had to keep working and risk seeing a boy who gave me butterflies and unreasonable amounts of confusion regularly.

Last night was... well, it was special. Spending alone time with Shayne was always special. But the memories were plagued with uncertainty. Now that the drinks had worn off, I began to doubt what had happened between me and Shayne. The vodka-driven buzz could have skewed my memories. Maybe we weren't actually going to kiss. Maybe I just wanted him to kiss me.

I didn't get the chance to talk to him for the rest of the night. Between the drinking games, Lasercorn's clumsy kegstand, and more dancing with Mari, distractions had separated me. Every time I tried to catch his eye, he didn't meet my gaze. Maybe he didn't see me.

To be fair, Shayne had a busy night, too. He and Damien played more beer pong against Joven and Wes. Ian convinced him to reenact his Jack Sparrow sketch from So Random. Kimmy had even pulled him away to try to teach him a Tik Tok dance, which made my heart sink. But I had been around for all of those things. Maybe he just chose to avoid me.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered, making my way down the hall. "No sane, hungover person would be overanalyzing like this."

The kitchen sparkled clean, the aroma of Windex wafting throughout the common area. Not a single trace of the party was left, not even a stray red solo cup. Someone must have taken care of the mess after we went to bed.

The morning air was quiet. Faint snores echoed across the hall, a sign of mutual tiredness throughout the cabin. A package of individually-sized Gatorade bottles sat on the counter, and I snatched two up immediately. As I pivoted back over to our hallway, I saw Kimmy trudging toward the kitchen, her feet dragging with every step.

Her eyes met mine, grinning as she saw the plastic bottles in my hand. With sluggish strides, she retrieved her own bottle from the counter.

"Are you dying, too?" she asked, wary of sudden movements.

"I feel like I got hit by Zamboni going 30 miles per hour," I chuckled.

"Great party though. I haven't been that messy in a long time," she added, laughing.