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I think.
Kind of sounds like
a girl.
Maybe Olivia.
But she wouldn’t knock on my door. Not after how mean I was to her.
Girls.
I shake my head and fall onto the couch. Oh, yes. This feels good. It’s comfy. Time for a nap. No one likes Mondays anyway, right?
MY STASH OF alcohol is almost gone. My phone is vibrating somewhere, but I don’t want to answer it. Speaking may ruin this. Whatever this is. I’m loose and dizzy and my stomach hurts like hell. My hand goes to my stomach and my shirt is sticky.
Gross.
What’s on my shirt?
My curiosity disappears with that fucking banging again. Dots pass my vision and I try to remember which room I’m in. Living room? Bathroom? It’s coldish. Possibly in the kitchen. Who knows?
Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.
Who the hell is at my door?! I want to yell at them, but my mouth is dry and not functioning properly. My head droops to the side, leaning against a cool surface as the darkness finally takes over.
“Corey!”
Ugh. My shoulder shakes, but I know I’m not doing it. That would take too much energy. I don’t have any of that.
“Oh my God. Please don’t be dead.”
Dead? Ha. I wish. Life would be much simpler.
Warmth presses against my neck and I shiver from the touch.
“Wake up, wake up, wake up!” The voice is so frantic. Why? Nothing is happening here.
I grunt. I like this feeling. Kind of. I don’t want it to go away, though, and it will if I wake up. My eyes slit open and a blurry figure is in front of me.
“Thank goodness. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”
Something garbled comes out of my mouth when I try to laugh. Two words echo in my mind as an exhausted heaviness falls over me.
Fuck it.
And with that, I sleep.
UGH. FUCK. MY body aches, my mouth is dry as sandpaper, and my head feels like it’s about to explode. Slowly, I peer from under my eyelids, but quickly close them again. Shit, that lamp is bright. Why couldn’t I be dead?
“Corey?”
My brows bunch together at the sound of a soft feminine voice. Oh hell, am I hearing things now? Do I need to add that to my growing list of problems?
“Corey?” the voice repeats.
Carefully, I open my eyes and blink rapidly at the sight of a face hovering over me. “Olivia?” I manage to say. What the hell is she doing in here? How did she get inside? I’m in my bedroom and she’s sitting on my bed. I’m shirtless and in boxers. When did that happen?
“Here.” She hands me a glass of water, which I eagerly take. “Patrick has been worried.”
