The Worst Day
I felt heavy. No I wasn't heavy. It was like there was a ton of weight resting on top of me. The pressure was all around. As awareness returned to me I realised the pressure was particularly bad in my head, actually it was epic in my head. Oh my god! I have never had a headache like this.
As a took stock of the rest of my body's condition I realised these were not the only problems. My mouth felt like it was filled with sand. I moved my tongue around my mouth in a bid to get some saliva moving round there and came up dry still. I could barely move my tongue in fact. Yuck!
Although it was gross, the dryness was nothing compared to the pounding headache and aching I felt all over my body. Holy cow, I had never felt this dreadful in my entire life.
Surely I couldn't survive this, I must have been in a horrendous accident. Poor Charlie, and Renee! They would be worried sick. I needed to try and wake myself up. I bet if I opened my eyes I would be in a hospital. I couldn't remember what had happened but it must have been bad, I felt terrible.
I cracked my eyes open then, willing them to peep at the world and let everyone know I'm okay.
There was bright light, which made the effort of opening my eyes harder. I kept my eyes open just a tiny slit so they could adjust to the light. I took in my surroundings. I was not in a hospital, phew! But that brought up more questions, because this was certainly not my bedroom.
I could make out blue sheets on the bed and I could see the curtains on the window were open, which is why the light was bugging me. Damn summer sunshine!
As I broke through my sleep state and started to resurface into normal consciousness I realised I was not ill, I had not been in an accident, I was hungover. Epically hungover. This was a hangover the likes no one had ever seen, certainly not me. Urgh, this was awful! And I wasn't in my own bed. Where the hell was I?
I soon deduced I was laying on my side on the edge of the bed facing a window, but something else was wrong, apart from the obvious epic hangover. I could feel a weight over my waist. I looked at my hands. One was curled under my head, the other was drooping over the side of the bed and there was another hand. Unless alcohol had the power to make me grow arms, I was not alone. It was hairy, masculine, and kind of pretty too, which was weird. The fingers were long and the nails were perfectly trimmed and shaped, though not like their owner had tried too hard or anything. They looked slightly rough, but not too much. In short, the hand was hot. I have never been turned on by a hand. Not that I am turned on right now, because I am way too epically hungover.
I had to see who was in bed with me, or rather whose bed I had climbed into last night. Another quick stock of the situation revealed I was naked, so I hiked the sheets up around my chest to make sure I was adequately covered and then I turned over to face the man who gave me somewhere to sleep last night.
No fucking way! Edward fucking Cullen! This could not be happening to me. He was asleep, though he seemed to still have that smug crooked smile on his perfect face, the bastard. This cannot be happening to me. I cannot have slept with Edward fucking Cullen, I hate this guy. He is the bane of my life, has been since I was 15 years old!
I had to get the hell out of here, hangover or no hangover. This was too horrendously bad to contemplate with him there. I could not handle the conversation that would ensue when he woke up. It was bound to include a lot of bragging on his part and probably some comments about by nudity with some barely masked criticism of my legs or some other feature. That guy had been finding reasons to humiliate and belittle me for years, there was no reason why the morning after us having fucked would be any different.
But had we fucked, I wracked my brains to remember and could only come up with flashes of the night before. Me depressed, then laughing, then laughing with Edward, then kissing him, or wait did he kiss me? I don't know, but that carried on to his apartment.
This sucks. It sucks more than anything that has ever sucked before. I shift my legs and I know right away I had sex last night, at least once. There is an ache there, which is not unpleasant when compared with all my other aches and pains from this epic hangover.
I haven't had sex in a while. Now I can't remember the last time I did! I hope if I go home and sleep it off then I can regain some clarity on what occurred last night and how I can limit my humiliation. Edward fucking Cullen! Oh dear god no! Of all the people, it had to be him.
I slide carefully out from under his arm and climb slowly out of the bed. He rolls towards my side of the bed then, his arm reaching out as if in search of me.
No way buddy, you're not getting a piece of this again. Asshole!
He whimpers slightly in his sleep and I look at his face. He is adorable, with his hair falling over his eyes and looking so peaceful and relaxed. This must be the hangover talking because he is not adorable, he is Edward fucking Cullen! Bane of my existence.
I look around the room for my clothes and come up empty, oh god where are they? I venture out of the bedroom and find my bra is draped over a lamp in the sitting room, my panties are flung in a corner and my dress is crunched up in a ball in the hallway. I gather all together and put them on. I find one shoe on the sofa and another by the front door, where my handbag also rests. I slip everything on and quietly open the door, taking one last look around the apartment before I go.
It looks like a bomb hit it. The small table in the hallway by the front door has been knocked over and the few items that were on there, including a phone, are all over the floor. I think about picking the items up, but just the effort of getting dressed has left me feeling sick.
In the living room I noticed a tall light had been knocked over and cushions from the sofa were scattered all over the place. I also clocked a couple of used condoms but I couldn't even go there right now without heaving a little. How many times did we do it? Why did we do it? We hate each other!
As I closed the door I prayed to god that Edward would never mention this again and not use it in his ongoing campaign to make my life hell. I could just imagine the ammunition this little episode would give him, way more than that time I fell over in the hallway in school and ripped my pants so the entire student body saw my underwear.
After closing the door I took in the hallway I found myself in. Okay, so Edward lives in an apartment, let's just hope it is in Seattle and I didn't end up travelling to god knows where last night! I head in what seems like a logical direction and find my way out of there. I grab a cab. The driver looks me up and down, knowing this is a walk of shame, or a drive of shame.
When I arrive home, just 20 minutes away thank the lord, I immediately strip off my dress, get in my sweats and dive into bed.
Although I need sleep my mind starts to turn over and over. What the hell happened last night? And why did I suddenly feel guilty for leaving Edward fucking Cullen in bed alone?