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A small laugh tumbles from my lips.
Calli: Just your standard vodka…
Jerome: I don’t remember anything after dancing with you.
“Yes,” falls from my lips at his words. Even if it was him, which is unlikely, if he were that drunk, then at least he doesn’t remember.
Someone got an eyeful of my boobs last night, and I’m relieved that it wasn’t Jerome. It probably would have been his first time seeing some, and I’d really like that experience to be a better one for him.
Calli: Me neither. I’ve woken up in bed though… kinda confused.
Jerome: Lucky you. I was on my bedroom floor. No idea if that’s where my parents dumped me or if I fell out of bed.
I can’t help but burst out laughing, which in turn makes my head hurt and my stomach lurch.
“Oh shit,” I gasp, throwing the covers off and running for the bathroom.
My skin is flushed with sweat, my body trembling, as I sit back against the wall and wipe my mouth.
Why the hell did I allow myself to drink so much?
I rest my head back against the tiles and tip my head up, closing my eyes and sucking in a deep breath.
My stomach continues to churn, but thankfully it doesn’t feel the need to make me barf again.
After long, uncomfortable minutes on the floor, I drag my aching body up and stand in front of the mirror.
I keep my eyes on the basin for a few seconds before I risk looking up. I’m going to look like a car crash, I just know it.
Reaching up, I wipe one of my eyes of the wetness still clinging to my lashes from throwing up, and I frown when my hand doesn’t come back with black make-up smeared all over it.
My eyes find the mirror, and I gasp when I find my face clear of the dark make-up I spent so long perfecting last night that I knew would only add to my mother’s irritation.
“What the hell?” I mutter, staring at my bare face.
Yeah, okay, my bags have bags, making my skin look pale and dull, and my eyes are bloodshot, but it’s a hell of a lot better than I was expecting.
Confusion continues to war within me as I reach for my toothbrush and attempt to fix the state of my mouth. It works, it’s just a shame it does little to help my head and stomach.
I shuffle back into my bedroom, in desperate need of some coffee but also aware that I don’t have the energy to make myself one, even if Mum hadn’t stolen my coffee machine in her quest for me to live a clean life, or whatever she’s trying to achieve with the coconut water bullshit.
I fall back into my bed and curl up into a ball.
I get two minutes drowning in my poor decisions from the previous night before footsteps sound out around my room.
I suck in a breath, praying to whoever might listen that I’m not about to be forced to endure Mum’s shrill voice as she rips me a new one over my defiant behaviour.
But when it doesn’t come, and instead the scent of the liquid gold I’m so desperate for hits my nose, I crack an eye open, risking seeing who it is.
Jocelyn stands before me with a soft, understanding, yet concerned smile on her face.
“Thank you,” I whisper as she places a huge mug on my bedside table.
I expect her to leave again, but to my shock, she lowers down and sits on the edge of my bed.
She reaches for my hand and squeezes gently.
“I think it’s time we had a little chat, don’t you?”
