Another Friday night, another party for Cosima to get totally shit-faced at. For the past two months her weekend schedule had been go to a party, get totally and completely drunk, make out with some guy for a while, get fed up with said guy and leave, walk about a block to Scott's neighbourhood, climb over the fence, walk in through the backdoor, and pass out on his couch. Then, in the morning, after his mom had left for work, Scott would come down to the basement, give Cosima aspirin, and drive her home. The system worked quite well, if Cosima said so herself.
That is, until, Friday, February twentieth. Or, if you were being technical, which Cosima usually was, the morning of Saturday the twenty-first.
Her weekend started out normally enough. She'd gotten her usual ride to a random party from Sarah Manning, (Cosima had agreed to do Sarah's science homework every day until graduation, and in return Sarah had guaranteed her a ride to every cool party that she attended) laughed at the same lame pickup lines from sophomore boys who had just barely gotten invited, drank the same type of beers, and even stumbled out of the party at about the same time.
At exactly 11:35 on Friday the twentieth, Cosima started to get bored with the party; so, beer still in hand, she shuffled out the door and began walking the approximate block to Scott's neighbourhood. She felt a little different walking back this time, though. Everything was so much fuzzier than it usually was. She didn't feel lightheaded and giggly like she usually did after drinking. Instead, she felt tired. She was really, really tired, now that she thought about it. It felt like she was dragging a ten-pound weight along with her, and with every step she took the weight just got heavier and heavier. But somehow, she also felt extremely light. Like she was floating, almost. Her eyelids were sinking lower and lower, and she absentmindedly wondered if maybe someone had slipped something in her drink.
No, no of course not. I watched my drink carefully, didn't I? She paused to think about it. Yeah, of course I did. What kind of idiot would I have to be to leave it unattended? Maybe I'm just an incredible lightweight. She shook her head and kept walking.
By the time she spotted Scott's house, she felt about ready to pass out. She was so sleepy that she barely even made it over his fence. Rubbing her eyes, she pulled at the glass door. Surprisingly, it didn't open. She threw her head back and groaned, pulling harder. Maybe it was just stuck or something?
"Scooottt," she whined, tapping at the window half-heartedly. "Scoooooottt, are you in there?" She stopped tugging on the window for a second when she heard a creaking noise from inside, but after thirty seconds of waiting for more, she decided that it was just the house settling.
By then, Cosima felt ready to drop down on the grass and sleep right then and there, but she knew better. Looking around desperately, she spotted his window.
"Oh, please please please be open," she pleaded. Making a silent prayer to all the gods she didn't really believe in, she gave a small tug on the window. The window opened with a woosh, making her laugh with relief.
"Finally." Cosima pulled herself up to the window and pushed herself through, landing with a thump on the carpeted floor.
Wait - carpet? Scott had wood floors, didn't he? Eh, it's not like it really mattered. Cosima wasn't going to complain about his floors when she was this tired, especially since the new carpeting had saved her from bruises that would have hurt like hell in the morning.
Still on the floor, Cosima dragged herself over to the couch, running into a black and white cat on the way.
Wait - what? A cat? Cosima turned back to look at the cat again. Wasn't Scott allergic to cats? Cosima shook her head, trying to stop herself from getting distracted. She could focus on why Scott would lie to her about being allergic to one of the most adorable things on the planet tomorrow. Right now, she needed to sleep.
So when she finally managed to get herself up onto the couch, she just went to sleep. Never mind the fact that for some reason he had turned the couch around since last time Cosima had been over, or that it was suddenly a different texture. For now, all Cosima cared about was closing her eyes and being unconscious for the next eight hours.
Cosima woke up the next morning to the worst headache she'd ever experienced and sunlight streaming through Scott's window. (Which wasn't helping at all.) She groaned, covering her eyes. Didn't Scott have blinds? Wait, come to think of it, where was Scott? Cosima had never been left to wake up on her own on a Saturday morning in Scott's basement. He meant well, but he always woke her up with his deafening stomps down the stairs. But now, Cosima didn't hear any stomping.
She sat up to look around, only to notice an awful pounding in her head every time she tried to move. She plopped herself back down onto the couch, closing her eyes. She felt terrible. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a hangover this bad. What did she drink at the party last night? She couldn't remember anything other than the usual, three to four bottles of beer and maybe a shot of whiskey if she was feeling adventurous, and she was pretty sure that last night she wasn't. But really, she couldn't remember much of anything. She remembered getting a ride from Sarah, and getting her first bottle of beer, but she couldn't recall much else. Maybe she'd just had a lot more beer than she had expected to?
Turning her head from left to right, she saw that Scott had brought her some aspirin and a bottle of water.
Good ol' Scott. Always being so nice. She grabbed the aspirin and threw it in her mouth, gulping the water to wash it down. Slowly, she sat up to see the basement. It looked…. different. Not like Scott had remodeled or something, but like it was a different room altogether. The basic structure was the same. The bathroom was to the left, the mirror placed on the wall directly adjacent to the couch, and the back room right behind where she was sitting on the couch. But it wasn't Scott's basement. Where the hell was she?
She pushed herself off of the couch, looking around. The walls were bare, but it didn't seem like they were bare by choice. A bookshelf full of textbooks and a coffee table in the center of the room were the only pieces of furniture, besides the couch she was sitting on, obvs.
Standing up, she strode over to the bookshelf, examining the many textbooks sitting on it. Evolutionary Development, A Study In Immunology, and a metric fuckload of other science books. Cosima was starting to think that maybe this was Scott's basement after all, what with the nerdy science books everywhere. Maybe he really had just redecorated?
"Ah, excuse me?" A voice sounded from behind Cosima, startling her. She whipped her head around to look, only to see a tall blonde girl looking at her with a mixture of fear and concern.
Cosima gasped. You're not Scott, she thought. The girl tilted her head to the side, causing blonde curls to fall onto her face and Cosima to forget what she was going to say.
Definitely not Scott.