I woke up at 9 the next day in last night's clothes, minus the tights and boots, and with damp hair. When I sit straight on the bed, My head suddenly starts pounding hard against my skull. The hangover is kicking in after last night's drinking.
While I gather my things to shower, I remember glimpses of yesterday's events. They appear in my mind like a short montage of clips arranged randomly. It fully dawns on me at that moment: I broke up with Ryan. I go back and sit on the bed to think it all over. I let all my anger out at Ryan last night, so now all I felt is sadness and anger at myself. I was angry at myself for believing someone like Ryan. I was angry at myself for being such a blind idiot. I was angry at myself for choosing someone I've just met over the people who've been there my whole life.
I sit down on my bed and stare ahead of me. I owe my best friends at least an apology.
Someone knows twice on the door before opening it just a little to take a look inside. When he sees me he steps into the room, "Good morning."
"Morning, Jay."
"You up early," Jordan smiles, "How are you?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
"Well, come down for breakfast when you're ready. Tyler is making some bacon, and Kyle is attempting to scramble some eggs. He says it's not his first time making them, but I doubt it," he chuckles. "They look like Satan's babies."
And Jordan was right. They looked scary, so I settle for toast and half a jar of Nutella. No one judged me, not because I just went through a breakup, but because Cody was drinking beer with his breakfast. No one talked about last night, nor mention Ryan's name, and I felt grateful for that. The last thing I want is my friends asking me about him and worrying about me when they're supposed to be enjoying their time. I tried as much as I can to act normal and have a little fun with them.
We were sitting on the beach again tonight, and I look at the water and feel something coming back to me. But I don’t know what it is. And suddenly I think Will the same moment he offers me a drink. I smile at him and swallow down my beer. He doesn’t say anything to me; in fact, he hadn't said anything all day.
I brushed it off and tried to ignore it. But as much as I searched for distractions, I couldn’t stop thinking that something happened last night, and I just couldn’t remember it.
"Hey, did anything happen last night?" I whisper to him.
"Of course, you don’t remember," he says it with a small smile, but he looks disappointed in a way. What in the world happened last night?
Somehow I manage to pull Will away for a few minutes without anyone noticing.
"What happened last night, Will?"
"You seriously don’t remember, don’t you?"
"No, I don’t. That’s why I want you to tell me."
"I can't believe you don’t remember—"
"Just tell me already!" Man, do I have to beg him everytime I wake up after a drunk night?
"Well," he seems to be thinking really hard about it. Maybe I did something really bad, he's scared to shock me, so he's trying to put it in the most pleasant way. Or maybe there's just no pleasant way to say it because what I did was apparently the worst thing ever, considering the look on his face.
"Nicole, I," he shakes his head, "I don’t really remember either."
I look at his in disbelief. "Fuck you, Will. I almost shit myself."
He starts laughing, and I start punching his chest. And I can guess what we probably look like to our friends right now: two maniacs joking around and hitting each other. But no, this is no joke because my heart almost fell to my feet back there.
"Seriously though," he tries to compose himself, "You don’t remember ending it with that asshole?"
"Of course, I remember that part. I'm talking about what happened after that if anything did actually happen."
"I don’t remember much, but," he searches the ground, "I remember checking up on you late at night. Then we leave the house, and I think we just hang out at the beach."
"Are you sure we just hang out?"
"Maybe we went for a swim or something."
"Yeah, I think we did." And I sure hope nothing more happened.
That night Denise decided the girls have a sleepover in my room with ice cream, junk food, and Zac Efron. Amber joined us as well, and she was surprisingly nice to me, except for the occasional name-calling and the sarcastic remarks, which I return gladly. I couldn’t help but stare at her round belly when she rejected the alcohol we were passing around. It wasn’t that big, considering Amber has a pretty skinny figure. I wonder when they're planning to tell everyone. Sooner or later, that belly is going to pop out even she's going to hide under Tyler's clothes.837Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqLCZ4xJEOn
We drive back home the next morning, and I ride with Cody. We don’t talk much throughout the ride, but I take control of the AUX and play my own music. We sing along in our loudest voices, Will and Kyle jamming along with us. Everyone was acting like nothing ever happened, and that made me happy.
We stop at a gas station to refill the tank, and I leave the guys to go to the mini market. I buy back myself a Snickers bar, a bag of chips, and a popsicle. As I pay for my things, I watch the guys from behind the glass.They looked like they were having a heated discussion, and Cody looked rather pissed.
"I don’t care what she wants," Cody says. "I'm beating the shit out of him when I see him."
"Dude," Kyle slaps Cody's chest when he notices me.
Cody looks at me, "Isn't it a little cold for that?"
"No, it isn't," I say before sucking on my popsicle. He rides the car and turns the engine on as if he wasn’t just talking about kicking Ryan's ass.
"You're not beating the shit out of anyone, Cody," I tell him when I sit next to him in the car.
"Try me."
"No, I'm serious. I dealt with him the way I wanted," I turn in my seat to face him. "I don’t want you involved in this. I don’t want more problems."
"You won't stop me."
"Oh my God! Just stay out of it Cody. I'm not a child. I can deal with my own problems."
"Oh, like how you started dating him?"
"I didn't know he would cheat on me."
"Well, I warned you about him. We all did tell you what a lying prick he actually is."
"I'm sorry I didn’t believe you. It was a mistake, and I learned that in the worst way."
"It was not your fault, Nicole," Will says from the back seat.
"Yeah, you wouldn’t have known," Kyle interferes as well.
"Just please, don’t get in trouble for me." I wait for a reply from Cody, but he doesn't say anything.
When we arrive home, Kat is waiting for us with a glass of wine in hand. She doesn't look so good, but she tries to maintain composure in front of us. We have dinner together, and she asks about our weekend. I don’t say anything about Ryan or the breakup, and I'm surprised by Cody's silence.
After dinner, Kat wishes me a happy late birthday and gives me my gift, wrapped in what looked like Christmas trees. I rip it open to reveal an acoustic guitar that looked painted over. I thought it looked really familiar until I saw the letters NS engraved on its neck. It was my sister's. Dad got it to her on her 15th birthday when she'd asked for it more than once. The day after her birthday, before she even tried playing it, she spray-painted it black over its original wooden color, saying that she'll be making "dark music."
Nadine had always put on this gothic appearance, despite her bright personality. She wore black shirts and fishnets and covered her eyes with black and dyed her hair different colors whenever she wanted a change. When she turned 17 she got a tattoo of a black butterfly on the right bottom of her stomach and a cross below her ear. Mom snapped the moment she saw the cross and grounded her for a week, saying, "You are unknowingly harming your body, and you'll regret it later."
"She didn’t see the other one," Nadine had said, pulling up her tank top to show me the butterfly that was as big as my palm. It was beautiful though, and I didn’t find it harmful. Thinking about it now, I feel like Mom was not very lucky with the way we were born: a gothic freak and a tomboy.
"You wanted girls, and I tried," Dad would joke whenever she criticized the way we dressed. It was always like that, and although it seemed like Mom didn’t want us, it's definitely the opposite. She liked our personalities, and she called them unique, which was one of the main reasons we never changed how we dress or how we behave. We grew confidently because of our parents.
"I know you prefer making music on your computer, but I just thought you should have this," Kat says, and I almost forget she was there.
"Thank you," I smile at her and hug her.
"Did anything happen over the weekend?" She asks when we pull apart.
"Why would you think that?"
"Come on, you think I wouldn't notice?"
I hesitate before I tell her. There's got to be a lot on her shoulders already, and I didn’t want to burden her with more problems. But knowing Kat, it's only going to be more troubling for her not to know and think that we're hiding something from her. So I tell her everything.
When I'm done talking, she rests back on the couch and says with a sigh, "The problem is not us; the Hastings are just big assholes."
"Dickheads," I rest back next to her.
"Dipshits."
"Mansluts."
And we start laughing. We laugh at everything: at them, at us. I felt like I was letting all my anger and sadness out, only I wasn’t crying, but laughing. When my sides started hurting, I try to control myself.
We stop laughing and stay silent for a few minutes.
"Where's Cody?" She asks.
"Probably screwing some girl who's not Denise."
"Why not Denise?"
"There's something going on between them. Who knows? I honestly don't understand their relationship at all."
"Mhm," she stands up. "Men have it easier, don't they?"
"I guess we're the ones making it easier for them."
She seems to be thinking hard about what I said, and then her face turns a little disappointed. I think she's going to cry, but she doesn’t. Instead, she asks me if I want a drink.
"Yes, please," I say although I'd drank the last two consecutive nights, and my head is still pounding. But I think the best way to treat a hangover is to drink more.
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