matters of the heart

17

There's something about that picture-the smile, his stance (like that's his happy place)-it erupts a feeling in the pit of my stomach and I can't help but screenshot the picture. I've never seen him smile like that. And I don't think either Isaac or Charlie know what an amazing moment they managed to capture.

I also can't help but notice Charlie doesn't look nervous contrary to what he whispered to me. I'm going to f***ing mess it up. But he didn't. Instead I did. I messed up. Sh*t. I messed up big time.

The remembrance of my own article brings a frown to my face. I waste no time in reading.

I read the article 5 times. Double checking for spelling errors, misinformation, grammatical errors even but I find nothing. The article is perfect if you ignore the Charlie situation. I pull my cover so that it's just beneath my chin. I owe Charlie nothing. But I can't help feeling like a shit person for even mentioning something so personal about him on the article for the world to see. Something he's not comfortable with talking about. Nobody should ever feel forced to talk about something when they're not ready-no matter who they are or what they've done in the past.

This is not the type of journalist I want to be.

A long sigh escapes me as I turn off my phone and slip it under my pillow. Looks like today's going to be a stay in bed type of day. Hiding from the world and forgetting all about my problems. Even if it's just for a few hours.

As I close my eyes and imagine a world where I'm not me, It doesn't take long before sleep takes over my body.

***

I'm in a dreamless sleep when I feel soft taps on my left thigh and hear my name being called. Somehow, I manage to ignore it. It seems that now that I'm done, my body's determined to get back all of the sleep I lost out on when I was writing my article. I figured whoever it is calling me would realise that I don't want to be disturbed and leave but they don't and the persistent taps accompanied with the occasional 'wake up Lor' doesn't go away. Still I refuse to open my eyes until my duvet is dragged rather aggressively off my body and a harsh sting on my thigh follows.

"Lorraine!"

"Ow!" My eyes fly open as my hands reach to rub my sore thigh. "What was that for?" Looking homeless with hair everywhere and a bit of dried drool on the side of her mouth, Elle eyes me in a this is not a joke way and I find myself mumbling incoherently whilst pushing myself into a sitting position. "What's happening?" I ask as my mind goes into a silent prayer.

Don't let it be about my article.
Don't let it be about my article.
Don't let it be about my article.
Please.

But somehow, the look on Elle's face tells me I should prepare my mind for the worst. What did I expect? It's like I've pissed off the universe by using the last sheet of toilet paper and not replacing it with a new roll.

"It's all over."

The first thing that comes to my head is what? Before I can ask her what in the world she's talking about, the door opens and Shadé walks in her gym clothes, her phone waving in the air. She looks pissed which makes me even more worried. "Have you seen it?"

"I have, she hasn't." Elle replies scrolling through her phone. The frown on her face as she does this indicates that whatever it is that she's seeing-that they've both seen-can't be good. My heart starts to race and I feel sick.

"What's going on guys?" I ask sounding like a child who's scared her parents are about to go through a divorce. Shadé kicks off her shoes and climbs on the bed.