I woke up with a bad hangover. Man, it's been a while since I last got drunk, I almost forgot how mornings like this are such a pain in the ass and the head. My brain felt awfully heavy that I couldn't keep my head straight. I wobbled my way out of Cody's room toward the kitchen and--
Wait, why was I in Cody's room, to begin with? And where the fuck are my pants? I was wearing pants yesterday, wasn't I?
"Oh, shit," I mutter to myself when my mind makes a scary conclusion. I turn my head slowly to look at the bed behind me. Thankfully, I find it empty, and a sigh of relief leaves my mouth. Still, what happened to my pants?
"Oh, you're awake!" Will exclaims, holding a mug of coffee in his hand with the word "Daddy" printed on it next to a heart. I'm pretty sure we don't use that anymore. Hold on, what the fuck is he doing here?
He takes a sip of his coffee and says,"Ah, you were great last night."
I freeze in my place and look at him in shock. My eyes open wide and my breath gets caught in my lungs. My heart rate skyrockets and I find the words stuck in my throat, not coming out.
At least he's not Cody, right?
Fuck, Nicole! No!
I open my mouth in an attempt to say or ask anything, but I say nothing and keep my mouth parted as an open door for a bug to enter, or something.
Right there and then, I really wished I would choke on a bug and die because I couldn't believe that this is happening. I started gathering the pieces together: drunk, no pants, messy bedsheets, Will in the house, me looking like I was hit by a truck.
"Fuck," I mutter the only word I can muster.
"Right, you made me laugh so hard I almost shit my pants," Will starts chuckling like he was replaying a memory. What's he talking about? I thought that...
"What happened last night?" I finally find the courage to ask.
"Oh, you probably don't remember," he takes another sip, slowly swallowing it. He stays silent for a while, making me think he finished talking, and slowly pulling at my last nerve.
"Will, spit it." I was slowly losing my temper, and it's making my head hurt even more. "What happened last night?"
"You were so drunk yesterday. How's your hangover, by the way? Coffee?"
"Just tell me!" I yell, causing my head to pound harder.
"You jumped around the house with no pants on, yelling like you were Tarzan," Will said with a straight face. "Also, it took a little effort for us to stop you from taking off your shirt. And you removed your bra and tied it around your waist, and said that'll give you a bigger ass—"
"Stop talking," I put my hand in front of him to stop him from humiliating me more.
Great! I'll never leave the house again.
"Well, at least I can cross that out of my bucket list," he grins goofily. He looks like a complete idiot...a kind of cute idiot.
Damn, I hate him.727Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdOCRgRMyrj
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I spent the rest of the day, trying to cure my massive hangover. I haven't had one in a while, I forgot how bad they get for me. Will stayed with me the whole day since Cody was doing God-knows-what with Denise since last night. I'm guessing the black cat costume she had on was not too basic for Cody. I got to say, she looked hot in it, and it complimented every curve she had. Regardless, those two are disgusting, yet they're probably two of the closest people to me.
Will treated me like a sick person. He fixed me breakfast, made me coffee, and even held my hair up when I was throwing my guts out in the toilet. Really attractive, I know. He was surprisingly really sweet, but I'm not complaining. It feels really good being pampered, I got to admit.
Later that day, he had to leave for work. He said his boss was really strict and that the bar was short on workers. I asked him why he'd bother work at a cheap bar when his mom is basically a millionaire now. He just shrugged his shoulders, and said, "I guess it just makes me feel a bit more independent. I wanna make Mom understand that she can rely on me without all that money."
Hearing those words come out of Will's mouth changes a lot of things I once saw in him. It also changes a lot of things within me--things I couldn't quite comprehend. I couldn't help but stare at him when said that, and lift my lips up in a small smile, which he returns quickly before leaving out the door.727Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUafBcipEOO
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In the middle of my movie, I receive a call from Ryan and a picture of him kissing y cheek pops up on my screen. I pick up, lazily lying on the couch in a pair of leggings and a T-shirt I stole from Cody's closet, which was awfully comfy, by the way.
"Hey."
"Hey, there," he greets me cheerfully, "How's your hangover? Or are you one of those rare people who just doesn't get it?"
"It's awful," I groan when my head pounds back at me as if it remembered it was supposed to hurt me. "It feels like I got sumo wrestlers fighting in my head."
"Very accurate," he says from the other end of the line, and I want to tell him how his voice is making it even worse. "Hey, come over tomorrow."
"What?" That took me by surprise. I never visited Ryan, except for that one time I had to apologize, but I didn't even go in. He would occasionally ask me to, but it was never anything planned or official in a way. I don't know why, but every time he told me to come back home with him, I felt the need to refuse.
"Come over for dinner?" He repeats, only this time, it was more in a questioning way. He sounded a little conscious, and if I know Ryan correctly, I know that he's never conscious; in fact, he's one of the most confident people I know. Also, if he wanted anything, he gets it easily, so for him to sound unsure--even if just for a bit--is something new, at least to me.
"Um, sure," I find myself smiling, "That'll be awesome."
"Awesome!"
There was this long pause, where I'm just smiling, awkwardly sitting by myself in the living room.
"Well, do you need a ride? I can come pick you up," he asks, breaking the silence.
"No, it's okay; I got one."727Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVAzf3MxbAl
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I've been sitting on my bed for half an hour now, just staring at my open closet. I was going to dinner at Ryan's house, where I'll probably meet his family. I know that the Hastings is a pretty high family, and I know I have to leave a good impression. And the first impression you get of a person is from the way they look.
I follow my gut, and my gut is telling me to go casual. Then again, it tells me that all the time. I wear my usual jeans, which are ripped at the knees (not so sure if they'll approve), a black top, and a leather jacket for warmth. I live in Los Angeles, where winter is not exactly winter; it's as if summer is pretending to be winter, but outrageously failing. Still, it's safer to keep a jacket on.
Kat stares at me skeptically, tapping her cheek with her index finger. I can feel her girly side criticizing every part of my outfit.
"It's definitely you," she shrugs.
"And that's not good," I rub the back of my neck as I frown at my once-white shoes, which are now a bit yellow.
"Hold on," Kat walked toward me, gave me a quick look over, then removed my hat from my head. She messed my hair up a bit, brushing it a little to the right and randomly parting it. Finally, she places my hat on top of her head and cocks her head with a smile, "That's better."
I take a look at myself in the mirror and find my hair parted from the middle and smoothly lying on my shoulders. At least now I don't look like a punk, but a little more presentable in front of Ryan's family. I knew it was the hat.727Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQz7VG1KL7j
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Ryan welcomed me with a kiss and invited me into the house. I was overwhelmed by its size; the place was so huge it almost took me by surprise. The first thing that caught my eye was the fireplace that burned a good distance away from the front door. It was elegantly carved with detailed curves and textures. On top of it sat two vases and several framed pictures. In front of the fireplace was a big couch and three armchairs arranged on either side of it. One of the chairs looked rather unique, and comfortable, actually, on which a woman sat, looking at the flames as they dance.
"Let me introduce you," Ryan gently pushes me towards her. She didn't acknowledge our presence when we stood next to her until Ryan cleared his throat.
"Mom, this is Nicole," he wraps his arm around my waist and brings me closer to him. She lingers her eyes on my jeans, making me uncomfortable under her gaze, then moves her eyes up to meet my face. Her eyes open a litter wider before blinking a couple times with a slight frown. "Nadine," she muttered.
"What?" I bring my eyebrows together in confusion and look at Ryan, who just shakes his head dismissively.
"It's Nicole, Mom, and she'll be joining us for dinner," Ryan says firmly. His mom briefly glances at him, and they share a look. Then she looks again at my face as if she's making sure of something, nods slightly, drinks the rest of her drink in one gulp, and then continues to stare at the fireplace. Ryan pulls me away from her and grips my shoulder as he leads me up the stairs and down the hallway.
"She said 'Nadine', didn't she?" I ask the moment we enter his room, and he shuts the door.
"Mom is bad with names," he shrugs.
"She called me 'Nadine', Ryan," I stress on the name for emphasis. "I know what I've heard, and I heard her call me by my sister's name."
"She's just drunk, Nicole, like she always is," he shakes his head slowly. "This is only a coincidence." But I know it wasn't. I don't know why, but I know it wasn't because she's drunk or that she's "bad with names". And I also don't know why, but I let it go the moment Ryan cupped my face and looked into my eyes assuringly.
"Believe me she's nice when you get to know her," he said when we settled on his bed, and I gave him a small smile. "She's just so messed up after my brother's death."
Right before that moment, I'd almost forgotten that he lost a brother. He never talked about it; in fact, he never speaks of his family or his life at home. But I fully understand, considering I never speak of my family as well.
The dinner table was awfully long, and the three of us occupied only a tiny part of it. It was silent at first, only the clinking of the silverware was heard and the sound of the wine being poured in Mrs. Hastings's glass every three minutes. Even though she drank a lot, she still looked calm and even elegant while doing so. The way she holds her drinks and takes small sips of it makes it look more appealing than how it really is. And after every sip, she looks at her glass for moments before settling it back on the table. I only had one drink--one delicious drink, might I add--and decided to play it safe.
Ryan tried to open up a conversation more than once, telling his mom how we met, how long we've been together, how we "linked", but she just wasn't interested. After dessert, he excused himself to the bathroom, and I cursed him internally for leaving me alone with her. She was staring at her left hand and turning a diamond ring around her fingers with her thumb.
She takes another sip of her wine.
"Beautiful ring,"I say in an attempt to clear the air of the awkwardness.
"Hmmm," she looks at it again, expressionless. "Mark gave it to me when we were merely your age."
I replay what she said in my mind a couple times before her words sink in. "Mark Hastings?" I ask.
"Who else? The man who charmed me and lied to me about a happily ever after," she spoke humorously, "He's so perfect, you might even get attracted to him. But now he's just a piece of shit with a lot of money, acting like a horny teenage boy going through puberty, sleeping with any woman younger than me."
And she took another sip.
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