Cock-a-doodle-doo!
I was going to murder that rooster. That is...if I could manage to move.
I woke up with a massive pounding in my head and hair in my mouth. I blinked with difficulty, face plastered to a scratchy couch cushion. I was sweaty and itchy and it felt like million bees had decided to make their home in my brain. The sun was infuriatingly bright, and Abby's stupid tie dye curtains that were, for all intents and purposes, essentially gauze, were proving no defense against the searing light.
I maneuvered my way into a sitting position, grimacing. My fingers were sticky, and a warm weight pressed over my calf. I looked over to my left and discovered Maia sprawled out on the opposite end of the couch, drooling impressively.
I felt positively disgusting, and my head hurt like a bitch. Carefully, I wriggled out from Maya's legs, the room spinning slightly. My stomach turned over as I set my bare feet on the floor. I couldn't remember taking my shoes off, or changing into my pajama shorts and a massive t-shirt that read FUNPALOOZA in bright orange letters. Then again, I didn't remember a lot of things from last night.
It all sort of blended together into a swirling haze of tequila and red, white, and blue.
I spotted a glass of water on the coffee table, with a post it note that said: For Sophia in blue ink stuck to the side of it. I gulped it down gratefully, hoping to erase the sour taste currently occupying my mouth. Jesus Christ. I moaned, running a hand through my hair. There were crunchy bits. Ew.
"Well, look who's awake," hummed Jake, sweeping into the room with far too much pep in his step. He looked well rested and chipper and beautiful as ever, and I hated him for it. "Oh good," he said, nodding at the glass in my hand, "You found your water."
"You got me water?" I scowled at him.
"And took off your shoes and took out your hair and prevented you from going skinny dipping in the ocean at 3 in the morning," he added cheerfully.
"This is your t-shirt, then?" He nodded. Well that explained why it hung past my knees. "That's really nice," I mumbled.
"Is it?" He tilted his head at me quizzically. "Because you're still scowling."
"I'm in a scowling sort of place right now," I informed him, rubbing my face.
"Ah," Jake's lips twitched slightly. "Regretting those last few shots right about now?"
"I probably would be if I remembered taking them," I muttered, barking out a short laugh. I hoisted myself up to my feet, "Ow." I frowned, "Why does my elbow feel like it got eaten by a bear?"
Jake bit his lip, smirking slightly, "Your funky chicken got a little out of hand last night..."
"I was dancing?"
"You don't remember that either?" I buried my face in my hands, mortified. "Randall..." he said softly, tapping my shoulder. "Would now be the right time to tell you that you have a ketchup packet stuck in your hair?"
"Oh my god," I groaned. "Just never look at me again, please."
Jake laughed, "Here. Let me." Gently, he reached out and untangled the packet from my mass of frizz. His fingers brushed against my ear as he did so, light and cool.
"Thank you," I blushed slightly.
"Don't sweat it."
"For all of it, I mean." I told him. "For taking care of me last night...I'm sure it wasn't pretty." I could barely stomach the thought of him having to corral me onto the couch, of him seeing me dance, of whatever word vomit spewed out of me, or actual vomit. God, I hope I didn't vomit, or confess anything potentially friendship ruining to him. Not to mention the horror of how he got me to change into these clothes. I was so not thinking about that. I never wanted to know. Ever. Ignorance is bliss. Truly.
"It was endearing, Sophia. Really. And I didn't have to hold your hair back or anything like that."
"Endearing, huh?"
"You're a very cute drunk," he grinned, thumbing my chin. "And somehow even more stubborn than when you're sober."
"You have to stop being so nice to me," I said, shaking my head. He was wonderful. Why was he so wonderful? How was he so wonderful? His thumb traced a path up my cheekbone, and I shivered.
"Why?" he murmured, eyes soft and searching. I felt faint.
The rooster crowed again, piercing, shrill, and so loud I saw stars.
"Fuck you!" I growled, shaking a fist at the window. Jake snorted. "You think this is funny?" I shot him a withering glare.
He gulped, "Absolutely not."
"Damn, Soph," Kai walked groggily into the living room, pulling a t-shirt over his head. "What's the matter with you?"
"What's the matter with your face?" I fired back, eyes flashing. Kai's eyebrows shot up in surprise. I loathed how nonexistent the circles under this eyes were. Yup. I was scowling again. Ugh. My head.
"Feeling that tequila pain much, girl?" Maia yawned, teasing. Her black hair stuck out every which way. "Kai totally owes me money. I knew you were a lightweight."
"I will hit you," I threatened, baring my teeth.
Maia eyed me warily, mouthing at Jake, "Is she good?"
"I can see you."
"A. She's hungry B. She's tired C. She's hungover or D. All of the above," Jake said. I flipped him off with both hands. He grinned. "D it is."
I rested my head against the cool glass of the window, hoping the two Tylenol I took before we left the house would kick in soon so that every rattle the truck made as we traversed the highway would stop feeling like someone was jamming an icepick through my skull.
Jake had managed to coax me out of the house with the promise of an almond croissant and coffee, although he'd had to do a lot of convincing on the whole "waiting to clean the disgusting aftermath of house party front". I was developing a rash just thinking about the dishes collecting in the seat, the red solo cups sitting on the porch in the hot sun...I shuddered. Maia and Kai had assured me they would start the clean-up process while we were gone, as much as they could do before they had to head over to the Nakamura shop to help they family with the tourist holiday rush, but I think they really just wanted to escape from my hangover wrath. In their defense, I was hulking out on anyone who breathed near me.
"I ordered ahead," Jake told me, patting my knee gingerly. "It will be ready when we get there."
"But will it be ready before I spew chunks all over the windshield?" I pouted, clutching my knees to my chest. I usually enjoyed looking out the window, but right now the rolling green mountains and glistening waves made me ill.
"You poor hungover little thing," teased Jake, reaching over to tug at a strand of my hair.
I narrowed my eyes at him, "Keep your hands at ten and two, would you?"
"Okay, grumpy girl," he grinned, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he pulled up to Auli'i's, tires scraping on the gravel. I plugged my ears and tugged my hat down over my face, really wishing I'd remembered to bring my sunglasses. "Ready to face the world?" Jake asked, hopping out and closing his door with the utmost caution and delicacy. I knew he was making fun of me...but I still appreciated it. He walked around to my side.
"There is not a chance in hell you are getting me out of this car."
"Do you have any idea how easy it would be to pick you up?" Jake replied, the corner of his mouth titling slightly.
"Try it," I countered, staring him down, arching a brow. "See what happens, Sherlock."
Jake shook his head, "I'll be back in a sec." And with that he sauntered into the shop, sun shining on his golden hair. His heather blue t-shirt was faded, fitted across the rippling expanse of his back. It looked soft, and I was struck by the strange urge to bury my face in it. My stomach still felt all funny as I replayed the moment he'd suggested picking me up. I imagined his arms around me, his big, burly, beautiful arms— I sunk down in my seat, groaning. What was I doing?
I known him less than a month. I was working with him, living with him, but I barely knew him. And he so wasn't my type. Right? Then, why didn't it feel that way?
He was just so nice and wonderful and hot. Oh my god, he was so hot. He was so— big and strong and— my pulse was racing just thinking about his thumb on my chin. Gah. What was the matter with me? I wasn't a superficial person. Like at all. I swear. Yes, the fact that he was so sexy I could barely breathe was a huge perk, but the way I felt when I was around him...I couldn't describe it. Jake made me feel...unexpected.
No one had ever made me feel unexpected before. I was predictable and safe and everything but unexpected. I was Sophia Randall, dependable, static, noncontroversial. Good, old Soph.
But Jake...it was different. And I liked it. I liked it a lot.
The first bite of my croissant was pure bliss, and the sip of iced vanilla latte that followed was almost indescribable. I could've kissed Jake. I half wanted to...I closed my eyes and sighed happily. Jake smiled, turning the key in the ignition, "Does this mean I'm allowed to play music now?"
"Play whatever you want, Sherlock," I said, passing him the cable. "I'll even listen to your old man music." I took another sip of my coffee. I was a changed woman. The world was brighter and louder and I didn't feel like dying because of it.
Amused, Jake settled on a folksy Joni Mitchell song before saying, "Feeling better, are we?"
"Maybe..."
Jake pressed a hand to his heart, smiling dramatically, "I will miss Cranky Sophia."
"Shut up," I rolled my eyes, swatting him. But I was beaming at him. How could I not? I paused, chewing at my lower lip. "How'd you know what I needed."
"I learned very early on to feed you when you get those scary eyes," laughed Jake. I was nearly winded by that comment. Winded by how well he seemed to know me. To see me. It was incredible how quickly he'd managed to knock through the wall I so often put up around myself.
"It's strange..." I started, trailing off. I stared down at the ice remnants swirling around in my cup, steadily melting.
"What is?"
"Nothing...just— sometimes I feel like you know me better than a lot of people in my life do. Which I know is weird because it's only been a few weeks, but..."
"It's not, actually," Jake said with a smile. "I mean, it is. But it isn't. It's not weird at all." I nodded and so did he and the moment held there for a minute or two, suspended in the air, moisture dripping down plastic onto the skin of my palm. He understood me. Somehow. He just understood me. And I was beginning to think I just understood him too.
Maia and Kai were gone by the time we got back to the house, and the porch had been somewhat tidied. I had to commend their effort. I made a mental note to apologize for being a raging bitch to them this morning, though Jake had promised they'd thought it was funny.
Jake let me have the first shower, while he started on cleaning the disgusting kitchen. Damn gentleman. Damn good at cleaning too. Especially for a guy who presented as jock as he did. In fact, by the time I dressed and cleaned my own room, all that was left for me to do was the dishes. I didn't mind. This was probably lame of me to say, but I sort of liked doing the dishes. It was therapeutic, and quiet, and I could just let my mind drift. It was nice. The cool ocean breeze whistling through the house, and the smell of plumerias wafting through the open windows. I almost hated how much I loved it here.
Massachusetts was great and all, but this— this was pretty unbeatable. I wanted to hate it. The place that took my big sister away from me. But I couldn't quite bring myself to. It was too beautiful.
I put the last fork in the dishwasher with a satisfactory clink and started a load. It was nearly dinnertime. Let's just say I slept in...a lot. The refrigerator was stocked for once, seeing that Jake and I had gone grocery shopping yesterday. I was craving pesto pasta. And it was so easy to make. We had everything we needed.
"Jake!" I called down the hall. I couldn't hear the shower running any longer, but there was no response. I shut the refrigerator door. "Jake," I repeated impatiently.
"In the laundry room," I heard his voice respond. I trudged down the hall and swung open the door.
"Do you want—" I stopped dead in my tracks, choking on my words. Jake stood before me, wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his hips, dipping in such a way that I felt heat crawl up the back of my neck. "Oh, sorry—" I blushed profusely, eyes darting uncertainly. "I didn't realize you were— do you want me to go—? I can— I—" Jake just smirked at me, chest glistening with water. "What?" I looked down, short of breath.
"You're cute," he grinned, a drop sliding down his abdomen. I died. "You had a question for me?"
"What?" I said again, faintly.
"You didn't come in here just to perv on me, did you Randall?" His eyes sparkled with dirty mischief.
I blushed even harder, if that was possible "No— shut up—" I stammered, trying to collect myself. "I— do you want pesto pasta for dinner?"
"Pesto pasta sounds great," he said, tousling his hair. Jesus Christ, I couldn't catch a break. I backed quickly out of the room because the towel was starting to slip and I was pretty sure my face couldn't handle a shade of red past the beetroot color it was currently sporting. My mouth felt numb, tongue floppy and useless. God, he made me so nervous sometimes. In a good way though. A butterflies and illegal sparklers sort of way.
I scrolled through Instagram while I waited for the water to boil. Maia had already uploaded the pictures from last night. The devil worked hard, but the digital camera girl worked harder, what could I say? I groaned internally as I spotted far too many flicks of me on top of tables and counters and covered in glitter.
reagan✨: so exactly how drunk were you last night?
reagan✨: following this maia chick is the best decision i ever made
reagan✨: ARE YOU DOING THE MACARENA
I groaned again, pressing my forehead to the counter.
Sophia: so hey?
Sophia: tequila is not my friend
reagan✨: oh i beg to differ
tommy 😇: seems like you had fun soph
Sophia: i did in fact thank you
tommy 😇: i know i had fun watching the clip of you attempting a cartwheel
Sophia: i hate you both
reagan✨: i can't believe our sweet, innocent sophia 'parties are boozy torture' randall was living it up on the fourth
reagan✨: my baby's all grown up
I rolled my eyes at the screen displaying our group chat. I hadn't been that bad in high school. Had I been a bit of a homebody? Yes. Had I avoided interactions with most people outside my immediate circle? Perhaps. Fine. Maybe I was that bad. I just never really thought I was the partying type. The idea of it always stressed me out, and Reagan barely managed to drag me to maybe two our entire highschool career. She got sick of trying to convince me, and I never felt the need. Not when Tommy was more than happy to stay in and binge watch The Office with me.
tommy 😇: I can't believe you've been in Hawaii so long
tommy 😇: how excited are you to come home?
reagan✨: loverboy here has been counting down the days
tommy 😇: Sue me for missing our best friend
Sophia: aw i miss you too
Sophia: you too Reagan stop the all caps rant you were just typing
I did miss them. Really I did. But...I wasn't excited to go home. Not at all. I was half dreading it. I felt guilty for admitting it. It wasn't that I didn't love my friends, and my Grandma, and my quiet, sleepy little town. I did. I just...I loved being here, who I was here. And the past week, my dream of going to school less than an hour from my house, knowing exactly what the rest of my life looked like...I don't know...it wasn't the same. It used to make me feel so safe and reassured, but now it made me prickly. It was almost...stifling.
Reagan: "best friend"
Reagan: i bet he has a calendar with the date you're getting home circled in a red heart
Sophia: be nice
Reagan: sorry
Reagan: forgot you're all about the jake now...
Sophia: I AM NOT
Reagan: the pictures on the internet of you hanging all over him say differently
Reagan: is he actually that pretty or is that the magic of the digi
Sophia: the former
Reagan: and the muscles?
Sophia: yes
Reagan: right
Reagan: lucky bitch
Reagan: when ARE you getting home btw? we need to dorm shop
"Hey, Randall?" Jake's voice tore me away from my phone, saving me from having to answer Reagan...for now. He entered the kitchen, fully clothed, and cute as ever. The water had begun to boil, and I poured the pasta into the pot. Jake shifted from foot to foot for a beat, scratching his head. He looked... nervous?
"Do you really not remember anything about...last night?" he asked.
"Not in any concrete way," I answered absentmindedly, setting the kitchen timer for ten minutes. "I remember most of the beginning, but after the fourth shot it gets all hazy." Maia's pictures had brought back a few flashes, but it was truly all just one vaguely embarrassing and admittedly very enjoyable blur.
"So anything you did or said after that..."
"Why?" I frowned, searching his eyes. He had a funny expression on his face. "Is there something I should remember?"
"No," Jake said quickly, "no, no." He swallowed, then smirked, the strange energy dissipating. He nudged my shoulder, "Just wondering how soon I should take the tequila away from you next time."
I swatted him with a dishtowel, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face.
please comment im like tinker bell but instead of claps i need external validation in the form of wattpad comments
be proud of me idk!
maybe this will motivate me to work on lost and found
prob not but a girl will dream
see you in another 2-5 months!!!!
kidding a little bit
like im optimistic
but im also realistic
LOVE YA!
-colleen