Walking out with half the mental capacity I have when I'm sober, I try to take simple steps out of my room without the pounding ache inside my head.
Blowing out I breathe. I witness everyone's hungover states.
Some laying on the couch, others sporadically in the kitchen. But in all, they have most things in common. They all look and are groaning like they've just been resurrected from the dead. And I can't say I feel differently.
Well, I mean everyone seems that way except Wyatt. That lucky bastard. I assume he spent most of the party babysitting me anyways.
"Yup, all of us must have caught a strange bug, so we won't be in today." Wyatt's childhood acting- if you can even call being a nepotism baby that- shines as he proceeds to fake cough into his phone's speaker. "Well, thanks again, Nalia. Mhm. Bye."
As I furrow a brow, Wyatt finally looks up from his just ended call. "Who was that?"
"The office."
"You- you told them we were sick?"
"What? You didn't think you could go to class hungover today, did you?" His expression makes me feel all but a person with the IQ of 160.
I open my mouth to speak, but I don't have an answer.
So once again Wyatt has left me at a loss of words. Though, this time for different reasons.
Sighing irritatedly, he waves his hand around as if I am a child. "Go lay down, philomath. I'll check on you once, I lay the rest of the cast of The Walking Dead down with some Advil and water. I don't assume you want me to tuck you in?" He raises an eyebrow at the last part, as if he's tempting me to challenge him.
Did he really just pull out greek?
Maybe I am seriously as hungover as he says I am, because 'philomath'? Seriously? Who is this pretentious man in front of me?
I don't even bother to argue with him as I make my steps back towards my room.
-
Walking back into my room, I want nothing more than to drop to the bed. The white walls, sheets, closet. All of it a blur of familiar blandness.
I am a more than thankful to have not decorated, now that I don't have to witness bright straining colors in my lucid state of post-most of a bottle of vodka .
Stripping off my jeans, I hope Wyatt doesn't decide this is the perfect time to 'check on me'.
God, who does he think he is? Actually, who does he think I am?
I've lived before I started existing.
Yes. I meant existing. Because most days that's all it is. Much to Link's dismay if he was here I assume .
I used to party every weekend. I had a family, a social life, friends. I was different from what I am now.
I just try to be anything further from that girl than possible now of days.
Though there are times, it might have called for some sacrifices much larger than intended.
For example sometimes I think I might have even distanced myself not only the party girl in maturity, but also emotionally.
To the point of associating happiness to my innocence before what Deniss did to me. So much so, that I distance myself from happiness it's self at times. It's toxic. But it's a safety net I'm not sure I'll be able to completely release.
Anyway, that's all to be said that I can still just as easily recall how to handle a hangover.
Pulling my oversized tee over my knees, I curl under the the white sheets. Trying to sleep of the hangover.
I should have brought a water and some advil, before I layed down, damnit.
Reaching over for a pillow that seems to have found itself on the other side of the bed.
As I put my hand under the pillow I feel a hard smooth corner.
Taking my time to trace. Trying recalling ever putting something under my pillow.
When did I ever need to put anything under a pillow?
Gripping onto the smooth edge, I pull it from under the pillow.
Instentley I recognize the creme colored spine, the navy lettering, the tatery wrinkled edges.
Immediately I pull the pillow behind my, now rapidly sitting up body. Resting my back onto my headboard.
Yet, as I lay my head closer to the pillow I automatically get a whiff of forestry cologne, and mint. Wyatt.
Shit. Shit. Shit. If I was any tired or slightly hungover now, I momentarily sobered up as I realize what an immense dumbass I was.
How, could I be so hungover, I didn't even notice when I layed half naked in Wyatt's bed?
As I flip over the book I see the iconic rain scene between Nicholas Sparks and Allie Hamilton. The scene from the same novel I cried over far past my 'bedtime' at fourteen. The Notebook.
I notice as I trail my finger to trace the spine again that, this is not the library's. It doesn't have the Lawrence Academy's emblem imprinted on the inside cover.
Though worn and torn. He must have gone out of his way to buy it second hand.
Flipping through the yellow aged, pages, I stop to read some of the highlighted paragraphs.
-
'It is impossible to throw away the stroking on our hair.'
'No drowning man can know which drop of water his last breath did stop.'
'The romantics would call this a love story: the cynics would call it a tragedy. In my mind it's a little bit of both, and no matter how you choose to view it in the end, it does not change the fact that it involves a great deal of my life.'
-
Only skimming through the sum of many highlighted quotes, I finally reach the back cover. Almost tempted to close the book to take a breath, before I notice writing on the inside of the back of the book.
Written in a basic blue ballpoint pen is handwriting, I can only assume to be Wyatts. Small, concentrated, and simple in the middle of a white canvas.
'Love is just beautifully constructed chaos.'
I let my shaky index finger swipe lightly against the indent the pen made with it's inked point. The few words saying something far more than what leads.
As I begin to try to rationalize why Wyatt would have The Notebook in the first place, after telling me that day at the library about what superficial, fabricated nonsense it was.
Yet, having a copy of his own. A copy he took the time to read and highlight.
The sound of footsteps outside of Wyatt's door, caused a spike of adrenaline , and guilt to wash over me.
As I quickly stuff the book under the pillow, I decide I have no time for an escape, even if i managed to make it to the bathroom door.
So taking the coward attempt, I pretend to sleep, as my eyes fall shut, and I lay down into a curled mess.
The sound of the door opening, instantaneously makes my body feel tense, even as I try to pretend to be asleep. I still feel guilty for snooping. Like I'm caught. I mean it's not like it means anything, right?
The steps continue towards the bed until the reach my side, to which they falter.
"W- seriously? Fucks sake, this women will give me a heart attack one day." I hear Wyatts voice a conflicting smooth whisper. His breath catching at the sight of me.
Trying to catch his breath, from the scare I caused him most probably. What other reason does he have?
Maybe because you're in his bed, you weirdo!
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
"You make it so hard to breathe, Lakes..." His breathing not getting any less shallow as he looks at me in his bed.
With a single rushed breath out, I feel a hand go under my knees. I try my best not to flinch away from his warm large hands, as his finger spread far, and his cold rings sent a chill down my calf.
His other hand just about to reach the back of my shoulder when he stopped abruptly. "Shit, Kota. Really? No pants." Quickly, he removes his hands from underneath me.
I know I can't see his face right now, but I can bet you the 50 cents to my name that he just rolled his eyes in irritation.
I heard him walk away, rusting, maybe him picking up my pants? But honestly I couldn't figure out much with my eyes closed. Not to mention the thought of sleep was only getting more tempting as I layed there. There in Wyatt's bed.
The finally thing I could concentrate on before I knocked the fuck out was a couple drawers closing, the rustle of pillow, and a dip on the bed next to me. Then I let sleep take me.
-
Something smooth and room temperature touched my mouth. A smooth caress on my right arm, from some unknown hand. And I might be insane, but I swear I heard "Drink this, and put this in your mouth. I don't want you being grouchy when you wake up." Absently I took whatever hard pill was given to me, and drank all of the random liquid. Whatever the hell it was.
-
Waking up, I feel cold. Chills running my cold sweaty skin.
Like I lost something that was keeping me warm. Still jacked up on whatever pill I took earlier, I didn't even bother opening my eyes. I try reaching for something instinctively. I'm not sure what, but it seems right.
When I feel nothing on the other side of the bed. I groan. Whine even.
Then I here a door click open on the side of me. Someone's presence coming near me. Taking my cheek in their hand. Instantly their warm hand comforts me as I lean into their touch. "Shhh, go back to bed you're going to wake up the rest of the house." The voice low, smooth, and close enough to my face to feel the puffs of air on my face.
I attempt to speak coherently, but I don't think it worked much. "Imfv cold- come, cold. Warm me." My eyes still closed, as I try reaching from whoever was there as their hand slipped away from my face.
A low, warm, breathy chuckle came out in puffs of air on my face. But they made no move to partake in my request. "Pl-leaseee, I'll do anything." I plead, follow by grunts of negotiation.
"Anything? Like what?" Amusement in the low voice as they challenged me.
The person next to me talks way to much. God. They need to shut up and warm me up already.
"I'll kiss at your toes, I don't careee" I grunt as I try getting more comfortable in my sleeping position.
"And if I don't warm you up?"
"I'll scream. Loud."
-
When I wake up, I sense my head on something hard. Not a pillow.
A draft running across my abdomen, causing me to shiver.
Peaking an I eye open, I'm confused. When I looked down, I notice I'm only in my Nike sports bra. I don't even remember taking my shirt off.
My head was on a lap, my arm thrown over knee caps. A hand resting on my head, smoothing my hair down in smooth, slow, calm, caresses.
The sound of a tv in the background playing softly in comfortable silence. It would be a calming scene if I had known whose lap I was on.
Immediately I spring up. When I look over, Wyatt is look at me with an eyebrow raised. "Chill, Kota. It's just me." He says shaking his head before looking back down at his book. 'The Secret History', open with one hand.
Without out even knowing it, I unconsciously cover my scar running down my stomach with my arm. When Wyatt catches it, he seems to frown. But I'm grateful when he doesn't mention it.
Just because I told him how it happened doesn't mean I'm comfortable letting him see it.
Clearing my throat, I try to put together what was in front of me, as I leaned back against the headboard. "Exactly. It is you. That's the problem. I was on your lap." My eyes wide.
He looks at me with indifference as he bookmarks his page, and sets it on the nightstand next to him. He sighs. "Mhm. Your point?"
I look at him as if he is crazy. His gaze making me feel exposed, as he rotates his body to fully look at me. So selfconcessouly I look down, to notice I must have kicked the covers of. Panic rushes through me as I rush to see if I was only in my underwear as well as my bra.
Thank god, I had a pair of my shorts on.
I close my eyes before, releasing a breath, and looking at him again. "You don't see a problem with it?"
He shrugs. "It's not like I had much of a choice."
"What- that doesn't even make sense. Not to mention I am half naked right now, Birdy"
The corner of his mouth twitched an inch at the nickname. "I came into my room to you passed out in my bed. I would've moved you, but you had no pants on, so I didn't know if you were comfortable with me touching you. I stayed on my bed because it's my bed. I gave you some advil, you fell asleep against me. Then you puked on your shirt, so I had to take it off you."
"That doesn't explain why, you didn't just walk me back to my bed after I puked. Or at least put a shirt back on me."
"I tried. After I put everything in the wash, I walked over to your room and grabbed you pants and a shirt. You put on the shorts, but refused to put on the shirt saying it was 'too hot'. Then, I was going to let you go back to your bed, but you begged me to let you sleep in mine."
"I. Did. Not." I tried my best to retain any pride as my mouth went agap. But I believe him. I was strange when I was hungover.
"You did. The best part being you threatened to scream, quote 'very loud' if I didn't 'warm you up'. It was again not a choice I made willingly."
I kind of just sat there. Not even having enough dignity to trust myself to speak. I really was grateful. I mean he's seen me puke two consecutive days in a week, and hasn't even said a rude thing about it yet.
But when I did, I forced myself to say words, I didn't expect to say to Wyatt ever. Whispering I barely rasp them out. "Thank you."
At first I didn't think he heard it. He seemed still, tense even . But when he started moving again I think he was just as shocked as I was that I said that to him. "Yeah. No problem." The words weird on his tongue apparently from the confused look he had.
We sat in silence for a couple seconds. Simply staring at each other. Not in a strange way. Just trying to figure eachother out.
He was the first to break the silence by clearing his throat. "I'm going to check on some of the other's hangovers. Unless you need 'warming up' I don't assume you'll be here when I get back. Just don't snoop around or anything." And with that he walked out of the room without even looking back.
A ding of my ringtone sounded from the floor. Forcing me to look away from the door Wyatt just left through. Quickly I reach down and grab my phone from my jean pocket on the ground. When I pull it out I have one message.
1 Notification:
Grams: Hey hun, sorry your Dad won't be coming for visitations this week. Just got of the phone with him, guess he's busy. Don't worry though, I plan on bringing your friend instead! Hope that's alright, I mentioned it to Jess a couple days back and she seemed to want to visit you.
My stomach sinks.
Authors Note:
Not Edited
Not much to say! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, it's fun but also blah. So let me know how I'm doing so I can fix things. Like please. Be super mean, I don't care I just want to improve haha.
Please vote, share, & comment!
Much Love <3 Kay