・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・
As consciousness slowly seeped into my foggy mind, I was greeted by the unwelcome presence of a pounding headache. My eyes fluttered open, revealing a room bathed in soft morning light. I groaned, regretting every sip of alcohol I indulged in last night and buried my face deeper into the pillow, trying to block out the harsh reality of the morning.
The hangover had settled in with full force, and I already knew this wouldn't be an easy morning. My head was pounding, my mouth felt as dry as the Sahara desert, and every muscle in my body ached.
I took a deep breath, mustering the strength to sit up, but my body rebelled against the movement. It was as if gravity was doubled, making even the simplest tasks feel like the most difficult task I had to endure. Each muscle protested, reminding me of my reckless choices and the price I had to pay.
"Come on, Ev," I muttered to myself, my voice a mix of exhaustion and frustration. "Get your sorry self out of bed. Life doesn't wait for hangovers."
My inner voice chimed in with its snarky commentary, making it clear that I had no one to blame but myself. Ah, the joys of self-inflicted suffering. Bravo. Truly, you've outdone yourself this time.
I gingerly lifted myself up, wincing at the waves of nausea that crash through my body. The room spun around me, adding insult to injury. Contemplating if drinking was even a smart decision, though I should have known better, in the moment, the allure of forgetting my troubles seemed irresistible.
With a surge of determination, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, slowly shifting my weight until I was sitting upright. The room continued to spin around me, but I grit my teeth and pushed through.
As I stumbled my way to the bathroom, steadying myself against the walls, every step sent jolts of pain through my aching body, though the cool tiles soothed against my bare feet. My gaze fell upon the scattered remnants of the night's indulgence.
My reflection in the mirror was a sight to behold—a disheveled mess of tangled hair and bloodshot eyes. I resembled a creature straight out of a horror movie, and it was a cruel embodiment of the chaos that consumed me last night.
The sound of running water provided some solace as I splashed cold water on my face, hoping to wash away the residue of last night's choices. But no amount of water could cleanse the memory and regret that weighed me down. They lingered, like stubborn stains on my conscience.
I reached for the painkillers, desperate for relief from the throbbing in my temples. As I swallowed them down, a bitter taste filled my mouth—both literal and metaphorical.
I blindly searched the sink countertop for my toothbrush and squeezed out a dollop of toothpaste to rid the foul taste and breath. The sharp minty flavor pierced my senses, momentarily clearing the fog in my mind. As I brushed my teeth, I couldn't help but replay the conversations from the previous night, cringing at every word that slipped from my lips.
The smell of coffee wafted into the bathroom, a lifeline of hope in the midst of my hangover-induced despair. I followed the aroma into the kitchen, where Melissa greeted me with a mix of sympathy and amusement.
"Rough night, huh?" she asked, pouring me a steaming mug of black coffee.
I nodded weakly, accepting the cup with trembling hands. The warmth radiated through me, offering a small respite from the storm raging within. "I swear, I'm never drinking again," I muttered, taking a cautious sip.
"And on a weekday, you decided to get shitfaced. Why?" Her brow raised accusingly, though she eyed me with concern. Melissa knew me all too well, sensing when something was amiss.
The mention of a weekday was like a cruel reminder of all the responsibilities waiting for me. I groaned inwardly, knowing that classes – the ones I'm paying a small fortune for – were already underway. I glanced up at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall, and it confirmed my suspicions.
Class had started, and I could almost hear my professor's stern voice lecturing about the day's topic. With a sense of regret, I calculated the time it would take to get to campus. Maybe if I leave now I could make it to the last portion of class. But it was pretty clear that by the time I would arrive, I'd have missed a substantial chunk of the lecture. I sighed in defeat.
Making a mental note to text the girl I'd befriended in the class. Oakland, with her meticulously organized notes and color-coded annotations, was my academic lifeline. We had forged a silent alliance in helping one another when the other couldn't make it to lecture.
With my academic crisis momentarily averted, I slumped back. After all, what's college life without a few moments of procrastination and, occasionally, missed classes and lecture halls due to bad decisions?
I took another sip of the coffee, hoping it would provide clarity along with its much-needed caffeine. But all it did was awaken my senses further, heightening my awareness of the uncertainty that lay ahead.
Melissa's eyes searched mine, her expression a mix of sympathy and curiosity. She knew when to prod and when to give me space. I appreciated her for that. She wouldn't push for an answer, but I could tell she wouldn't easily let it go either. "You don't have to tell me now babe, but please come to me when it gets too much." I provided a weak nod, "we can sit in silence if you rather do that. I don't mind."
Internally, I wrestled with conflicting emotions. Part of me wanted to confide in Melissa, to unburden myself and seek her guidance. But another part of me, the part that feared judgment and vulnerability, urged me to keep it all to myself. After all, I was still trying to grasp what was happening myself. How could I expect her to understand?
Taking a deep breath, I set down the coffee cup and met Melissa's gaze. "I love you" I finally spoke out, enough to let her know how much I appreciated her gesture, "Just need to make sense of it all myself, y'know."
She reached out and squeezed my hand, the warmth of her touch providing a sense of comfort. "You're not alone in this, Ev. But I get it."
After a brief catch up, I retreated back inside my bedroom. The afternoon sun streamed through my window, casting a warm glow in my room. But my mind was anything but sunny. Unlike earlier today, my mind was now consumed with lingering frustration, but more specifically anger. I replayed the conversation with Riley over and over in my head, each time coming up with the perfect comeback that eluded me in the moment.
"Really, Riley? Is that the best you could do?" I muttered to myself, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Impressed that I'm still working at a restaurant? At least I have a job, unlike you who's living off daddy's money."
My feet paced around the room. Fingers pointing accusatively at the wall across from me as if I were back in that moment and addressing Riley directly. Thoughts spiraling with anger and resentment. How dare he belittle me like that? How dare he undermine my accomplishments and make me question my worth?
The mental image of Riley's shocked expression fueled my determination. I continued pacing, my mind racing with more retorts. "And let's not forget your oh-so-impressive achievements. What have you accomplished on your own, Riley? Oh right, nothing."
With each word, I felt a surge of empowerment. This was my chance to reclaim my narrative, to shut down Riley's arrogant assumptions. It was a mental victory, a way to silence Riley's judgmental voice that had lingered in my thoughts. I refuse to let his words define me. I am more than what he thinks of me.
I grabbed a pair of clean clothes and headed for the shower. The hot water cascaded down, a soothing embrace that washed away the remnants of last night.
My mind, however, lingered on the unexpected encounter with Harry. His face flashed in my thoughts, his eyes reflecting genuine concern that stood in stark contrast to the arrogance of Riley.
I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the thoughts of Harry. I have enough on my plate dealing with Riley. I don't need the added complexity of another person in my life. Besides, what difference does it make what Harry thinks of me? We shared a moment, nothing more.
But no matter how much I tried to distract myself, thoughts of Harry found their way back into my consciousness. The memory played like a vivid scene in my mind. Harry's unexpected kindness resonated, each detail etched into my memory. I recalled the warmth of his hands as he caught me, the genuine worry in his eyes.
I closed my eyes, letting the water droplets create a rhythmic melody against the shower floor. The echo of Harry's soft voice reverberated in my mind, a contrast to the chaotic noise that had filled my thoughts earlier. "Are you okay?" he had asked, a simple question layered with a depth of understanding.
As I lathered shampoo into my hair, I couldn't shake off the burning sensation where Harry's hands had briefly rested. It wasn't just the physical contact; it was the unexpected comfort that accompanied it. In that moment, he had offered solace without judgment, a rare gesture that lingered in the recesses of my mind.
I scoffed at myself, the sound drowned by the shower's cascade. "Ev, you're overthinking it. Harry was just being nice, that's all. Don't read too much into it." I tried to dismiss the thoughts, to convince myself that it was a fleeting moment of kindness.
But the more I tried to push the memories aside, the more they persisted. It was a puzzle I couldn't quite solve, a mystery that kept nagging at the edges of my consciousness. I turned off the shower, the bathroom now filled with a lingering steam.
As I reached for a towel, I couldn't help but wonder about Harry's motivations. Why did he bother to offer comfort to someone he barely knew? The question hung in the air, unanswered, as I wrapped myself in the towel and stepped out into the now steamy room.
God, woman, get a grip. I finally shove all thoughts away, tired of reliving last night more than I should have.
﹌﹌
a/n: poor baby cant catch a break
ALSO i saw that there are readers from germany and australia ??? like what !!! thats so cool omfg