Why was the sun so bright? Who decided it would be so bright?
The sunlight gleamed through the window harshly as the first glimpses of consciousness seeped through my mind. As soon as I realized I still had a human form, my joints began to hurt.
They were all twisted at an odd angle on my bed like I didn't even take a chance to get comfortable. A lump was wedged beneath my back.
Gosh, why did it hurt to think? A pounding headache throbbed through my brain like a bunch of tiny men in hard hats got their new contracting job there. It was like someone replaced my brain with goo.
How did I end up here?
Then I realized. The party. The music. The stranger.
I was hungover.
I was hungover.
It sounded way better than what it felt. It was almost comical, but the reality of the situation was far from amusing. Maybe I shouldn't have drunk. Maybe I shouldn't have even gone to the party anyway. Hindsight was a real jerk.
It felt awfully quiet and peaceful. I assumed there would be some hustle and bustle in the morning, with everyone tripping over themselves to get to the studio. Maybe everyone was already ready. Ray was gone.
I pulled out my purse from underneath me, and my back felt sweltering relief. I was about to text Grace and Janelle, but then I screamed.
9:30 AM.
I didn't think so. Tiredness be damned.
I practically flew out of my bed and grabbed my purse and nearby hoodie. Still half asleep, I grabbed my foot from Grace's chunky-ass boots, stumbling and hopping on one leg manically. I crumpled to the floor, feet still trapped in. One boot slid off, and then I pried the others off, hostility slipping into a pair of slides.
I burst out of my room, rushing down the clear steps on a regular day, I still would have been scared off. The damn steps turned into a slippery slope, and my foot skidded under me. I flew airborne, before hitting the floor. If my body already hurt, the pain doubled as I pried my face away from the floor crying out in pain. My slides clattered beside me in a mocking chorus.
I cried out in pain. Just for one second. I got back up, slides in hand before flinging open the door, revealing harsh, blinding, sunlight. At this point, I could probably challenge Usain Bolt.
Nine effing thirty. That was the time we were supposed to be at the studio, and I was just waking up. What happened to my alarm?
The studio we were supposed to meet at was a solid ten minutes away by walking and if I made it fast enough and channelled enough adrenaline, maybe I could get there in five. It was the first day of the competition, and I was already late! How terrible! I wonder what everyone thought. Were they already singing? What if someone already picked the song I wanted? No that can't be, I have an original.
I silenced my thoughts as I ran down the cobblestone path of the hill, feeling the angle it sent me down. I walked down the neighbourhood pathway, past other big houses probably too expensive for me to enjoy, and made it down to a busy intersection.
Everything was a passing blur on the street, I had to get to that studio. Hell or high water.
I had barely registered the presence of a guy on the same path until we collided with a force that knocked me off balance.
Hot coffee exploded in contact. My mouth tore open a scream as the hot liquid scalded my skin.
Through the burning haze, I heard a familiar voice on the edge. "Oh no! I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Oh my gosh!"
"What the hell?" I screamed, trying to see the stranger through the coffee stinging my eyes. "I have coffee all over me!
He stammered, clearly flustered. I couldn't even see him, feeling the liquid seep into my eyes. "I'm sorry. I wasn't looking. I'm sorry."
He removed his hat and sunglasses revealing a pair of smouldering eyes I'm sure I've seen before.
A gasp escaped me.
I was looking into the eyes of Andre Robinson.