When my alarm wakes me up the next day, my head feels like it needs to be cracked open and I realise that happiness truly is drinking and waking up without a hangover. Thankfully, the curtains are shut and I don't have to deal with LA's blinding morning sun as I sleepily drag myself out of the sofa.
Bad idea because my feet land on Shade's sprawled out hand as I stand. If my head wasn't feeling like a bag of bricks, I probably would have laughed. However, it does and nothing's going to be funny for the next couple of hours. Thankfully, Shade is out like a light and will most likely wake up wondering why there's a dull ache on her right hand.
Holding my head in one hand and my phone in the other, I tip toe around the warm bodies sprawled on the floor and wobble to my room in search of some painkiller. Drinking is not my strong suit yet every once in a while I indulge myself. It has never ended well and I doubt it ever will. After popping two Advil tablets despite my head protesting that I in fact need three and finishing an entire 500ml bottle of water, I have a shower and brush my teeth. The action I'm certain only took a few minutes of my time felt like it was done in hours.
"I'm never drinking again." I murmur to myself as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes look like death—in all honesty, I'd rather be dead than having to feel like this for an entire 2 hours of statistic lecture.
"You look like crap," Shade stifles a yawn as she walks into my room. I want to roll my eyes because talk about pot calling kettle black but I'm not sure I can even manage the gesture.
"I feel like crap. I'll have to hide this monstrosity under layers of a good concealer." I admit, turning to my dresser. I rummage through my makeup and pluck out the CT concealer that Elle swears by. I eye her from the mirror as she gets under my cover. "Are you not going to class?"
"Cancelled." She replies, closing her eyes and getting comfortable.
"Lucky."
"Wake Sam up on your way out, she's got a 10 o'clock."
"Okay."
In less than 20 minutes, I've put my hair in a neat middle part bun, concealed my under eyes and even went up a notch with some eyebrow gel, mascara and cherry lipgloss. I get in my comfortable grey nike joggers and a white tank top. Just as I add some jewelry so I don't look as dead as I feel on inside, my phone dings from where its sitting on the charger.
It's Charlie.
My heart skips a beat for no reason when I catch his name on my screen and I can't help but wonder if that's ever going to change.
Charlie: I'm here now babe, u ready?
The bottom of my belly squirms at the word 'babe' but I have no time to analyse his choice of endearment because I have to pack my bag in a rush. I shoot him a 'I'll be down in a minute' reply and dash out of my room, leaving a snoring Shadè to sleep in peace. It's only half past seven when I exit my room so I set a timer on our TV that will surely wake Sam up at 8.30 so that she has time to get ready for class.
By the time I get to Charlie's Jeep, my headache seems to be worse due to all the last minute rushing I had to do. "Hey," I try to muster up a smile as I climb into the passenger seat. Charlie stops scrolling through his phone to look at me, his face breaking into a wide ass smile that makes him look so good, it hurts.
God, he is so good looking.
"Hey," He leans in to for peck on the lips before pulling back with a boyish grin, his gleaming blue eyes resting on my face. "I'm so happy to see you, can you tell?" He says before leaning in for another peck. "You look great. I love your hair."
I could have a 100 hangovers and hearing that would make life worth living again. "Thank you." I smile leaning in to wipe lipgloss off his lips feeling genuinely pleased by the compliment. "I feel like sh*t though."
"Rough night?" He asks and I nod as he leans into the back seat. Charlie hands me a big bag of original flavoured Doritos and a bottle of water. "Good thing I've got just the remedy."
"How did you—"
"You called me last night." My eyes widen in shock. I did what now? "It's not the first time you've drunk called me so I kind of put two and two together." I flinch slightly—not because I find his words offensive but because I have no memory of ever drunk calling Charlie. "Figured you'd need something for the hangover until we can get you something better to eat after class so I stopped at anal's—what?" Charlie eyes my gobsmacked expression.
"I've drunk called you before?"
"Yes."
"When?" I exclaim.
"I don't know. Two month ago? It's been a while, I really can't remember."
"Okay. Well, what did I say?"
"Put your seatbelt on." He instructs, pulling his seatbelt back on before starting the car. I know him enough to know that he's trying to avoid my question. "And does it matter?" He pauses, looking at me before turning back to the side mirror and pulling out. "It's been ages."
"Come on Charlie. It's not fair that you have a memory of—"
"You thought it was Rex and you were professing your undying affection for him." Charlie's lips tighten as he speeds past the green light. "I should have hung up the moment I realised the call wasn't for me but I—" Charlie glances at me when I burst into laughter. "—Did I say something funny?" "
"I'm sorry," I sober up but still can't wipe the grin off my face. "That was definitely bad Lorraine." I nod, taking in this new information. For some reason, the embarrassment never comes and I realise that I'm relieved to hear that I spoke about my undying affection for Rex instead of Charlie.
"Bad Lorraine?" He asks.
"It's just code for drunk Lorraine." I inform him. "My friends came up with it the first time I got drunk in freshman year and became a completely different person."
"So bad Lorraine is just you doing the things you're too scared to do sober." Realisation crosses his face. "So that's who I met on the night of the Alpha Sig party after the do or drink game?"
I wince at the remembrance of the night. "Pretty much."
"I'm sure bad Lorraine's lovely but I think I'll stick with good Lorraine." Charlie says.
"And why's that?"
"Good Lorraine's beautiful and sexy as fuck even though she doesn't know how to drive," I laugh. "Or swim," I roll my eyes at that. "She's forgiving and so f*cking kind, it's unreal. She's f*cking unreal. It's a privilege to know her and be around her. Being around her makes me want to be good. To be...better." My smile slowly fades at Charlie's words. He looks at me briefly "it's why I want to be around her because she makes me want to be better."
****
The next couple of weeks is a blur. My ordinarily mundane life suddenly became filled with incredibly hot sex. In between classes, internship stuff and winning basketball games, Charlie and I had both fallen into a routine which ultimately ends in either of us sleeping over in the others bed and sneaking out in the morning before our roommates wake up (most especially Charlie's roommates since I have no clue if they know we're hooking up and would love to keep it that way for now). And although this routine is not how I imagined my first sexual relationship with someone would turn out, no matter how many times I chide myself to reel in the happiness I feel everytime I catch myself thinking about Charlie, it's impossible to get out of the happy bubble I'm in.
I'm in deep and I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
I'm still deciding.
I unconsciously huff out a breath and shove the negative thoughts about my situationship with Charlie into the far corner of my mind. No point bringing up questions that I do not want the answer to. Better to focus on questions I can answer. I shake my head slightly and try to focus on the questionnaires Isaac and I are currently working through—a very tedious task that I can't put off any longer—for my column on the daily bruins next week.
Surviving dead week 101.
5.) Do you stress brag?
Definitely. No one mentions the fact that they've had 12 cups of coffee in the last 4 hours than an obviously stressed-out-on-the-verge-of-a-breakdown college student. Glorifying stress isn't a good thing but it seems like a coping mechanism all college student have adopted. Especially during dead week where the urge to compare your level of productivity to others is higher than the urge to actually be productive.
After reading a string of Yeses and Nos all day, this is the most interesting answer I've gotten. And I'm not mad that no one's thinking about dead week now. There's so much more to look forward to apart from exams like the fact that today's the preseason NIT semifinal game with UConn and thanksgiving break is only a week and two days away.
No no one except me.
For me, there's not much to look forward to. Firstly, Charlie left for Connecticut 24 hours ago, and although we spoke before his flight and briefly when he got to their hotel, I miss him (and totally hate myself for doing so because I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't.) Secondly, with my parents still touring the precious countries of Africa, I'm stuck here for thanksgiving, alone.
I sigh, again.
"Okay, I'll bite," my eyes flick to Isaac who's watching me with a subtle smile on his lips as he moves the empty cups of coffee to the side before leaning on the table of the small booth we booked in the library . "What's wrong?"
My expression transforms into that of confusion. "What?"
"Your brows are all puckered up like you're trying to figure something out. I know these questionnaires are boring but, correct me if I'm wrong, something tells me they're not the cause of your constant huffing, puffing and sighing."
I stare at Isaac for a brief second, and instantly I know I don't want to share any details on my Charlie situation—not because he has given me any reason not to trust him but rather that our friendship is not there yet. Our friendship is fairly new, boy talks definitely shouldn't be on the table.
"You're right," I tell him with a sheepish smile, copying him and leaning on the table as well as I physically resist the urge to sigh again. I take a deep breath instead. "My parents are currently touring West Africa and will not be home for thanksgiving, so I'm kind of bummed I'll be stuck here for thanksgiving break alone."
Isaac nods understandingly. "Why don't you go home with one of your friends if you don't want to be alone."
"They all offered but I said no." He waits for me to elaborate. "Sam lives in Vermont—it's like the freaking North Pole. Elle on the other hand has lived all her life here in LA and would only be gone for about three days—" i pause, and pout thoughtfully, "I would love to go with Shadè—her mum's food is just heaven and she lives in Salt Lake City which isn't really that far— but I don't want to impose..." I shrug. "I'd just really prefer being home in New York with my family."
He fiddles with his pen. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I don't celebrate thanksgiving and will probably be eating peanut butter and yoghurt with my family corgi."
I gasp. "You have a corgi!" I smile-pout, my heart gushing with so much love. Despite my initial fear of the four legged hairy animals, my love for dogs now knows no bounds. Kind of had too when my parents adopted our poodle right before I moved for college. "Male or female."
He picks up his phone from the table. "Female. Her name's Penny. We adopted her a year ago. Her old owner died in a car accident—poor thing was the only survivor. She took some time to warm up to us but now she's just the sweetest thing ever. And she loves a good peanut butter and yoghurt." He chuckles. "Here, I'll show you a picture."
He shows me a picture of the cutest corgi I have ever seen. It seems like they had gone on a walk and stopped by a riverbank and Penny was just enjoying it. I tell him about Chewy, the miniature poodle my dad bought my mum a few months before I left for college (which was unfair considering I begged for a dog all my childhood and never got one—probably because I was scared of them but still). Technically Chewy's mine and i would have dognapped her if our complex didn't have no pets allowed policy.
Article forgotten, Isaac and I are sharing stories about our dogs when a girl approaches our table with a sweet smile. Her blonde hair is secured in a high 'cheerleader' ponytail with a navy blue bow, two thick strands framing her oval face. She's in uniform — plaited skirt, white shirt, navy blue jumper with an embedded gold crest woven on the breast and a matching tie that has loosened up. She looks awfully familiar as her blue eyes watch me.
"Hi," her smile widens, showcasing a set of an all too familiar dimples. I watch her, unsure of why I think I know her especially when I know that I've never seen her face before. The girl's in uniform for crying out loud. She must be a high schooler. She readjusts the strap of her backpack that's hanging on one shoulder. "Lorraine, right?"
I nod, eyes darting briefly to Isaac who's also watching the girl who's yet to introduce herself. Or tell me how she knows my name. When I don't reply, her smile only grows wider. "I'm Dixie, Charlie's sister."
this was a bit of a filler but it's fineee!
Sorry for late update, life is crazy..
Charlie's POV up next, I've missed his POV so much !