Can't Help It

Chapter 4

"I want you

To want me!"

"Darcy. Darcy wake up!"

It is a truth universally acknowledged that no one wants to be woken up by their roommate poking them on the nose. Particularly when you have the world's worst hangover.

"No," I mutter and roll over so Charley almost falls on the floor.

Charley hops back up, as cheerful as a goddamn cheerleader and almost as obnoxious too. "Your baby brother's on the phone."

"I'll call him back later." I throw a pillow over my head.

Once again—in fact, always—Charley is in singsong mode. "I also made pancakes."

I take the pillow off my head and blink into the daylight. "I like pancakes," I mutter, slowly making my way into the world of the living.

"I know you do." Charley is sitting on the edge of my bed grinning.

I eye her suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice?"

"I'm always nice!"

"You're never nice."

She giggles. "I'm just happy." It's like watching a children's cartoon. If she jumps over a rainbow or turns into a Care Bear one of these days, I really won't be surprised.

I eye her even more suspiciously. But then, my aching, drunk brain finally makes the connection. "Oh sweet Jesus, you had sex!"

Her jaw drops open and her face flushes bright pink. "I didn't have sex!" She hops off the bed and starts to walk out of my room.

This is enough to get me out of bed, albeit still somewhat reluctantly, especially as I try to hop upright and the entire world's gravity shifts through my sodden bloodstream. "If you didn't have sex with James, then why are you wandering around like a drunken teenager?" I'm following her into the kitchen, even if I am still a bit wobbly. God. What the hell did I do last night? I recall a sports bar and embarrassing myself in front of a gorgeous guy—beer goggles or no?

Charley laughs. "You're the one that's still drunk!" She hands me a plate of pancakes, already buttered and syrup-ed. My stomach turns. "And by the way, I think you pissed off James' best friend last night. James says Ethan has taken to calling you 'The Heinous Judgmental Bitch.' Bit early to be making enemies on our new ultimate Frisbee team."

I wince. Not one of my finer moments. I try to act casual nonetheless, and shrug it off, and Charley is nice enough to not point out my own stupidity, merely squinting at me with a secret smirk. She can read me like a book. "Wait!" I set my plate back on the counter and grab a fork. My stomach protests, but they just look so good. Surely the carbs will help sober me up? "We're getting off-topic!" I take a bite. My stomach lurches and my mouth is so dry that it takes me ages to swallow it down. It's touch-and-go but once it makes it past my esophagus, we're in the clear.

Charley has been waiting patiently, watching me swallow, ready to force my head into the sink if the pancake makes reappearance.

I take a deep breath, about as tired as if I'd just run a marathon. I'm pale and sweaty too.

I'm never drinking again.

"So did you or didn't you have sex with James last night?" I'm trying very hard to think about other things.

Charley rolls her eyes. "I didn't."

"You didn't?"

She rolls them again, scoops up her plate and heads into our dining area. I do the same and follow, still pretty wobbly.

"We just talked." She turns scarlet. "Like all night." Gross, now she's grinning too. "It was spectacular." Was that a sigh?

Shit. My already dry mouth turns even drier and now I know there's no way I'll be able to swallow this next bite. She's falling in love with him.

I stare into space for about nine seconds. Charley is scowling in perplexity. "You okay?"

I hop out of it. "Oh yeah. I was just thinking. Did you say my brother called?"

Charley is confused. I'd pushed the topic and then just dropped it so suddenly. And I know now she just wants to talk about it, but I'm not sure I'm the best person for the job—me: the bitter, perpetually single best friend with man issues, a hangover, and the lingering memory of blatantly insulting the last guy I've actually found attractive still fresh in my mind. No, no, not me. Let me be the death of all relationships.

"Yeah?" she's chewing down her own pancakes happily, falling back into the oozy stench of her happy memories. "He called. I told him you were most likely dead for the next six hours."

I bob my head and rise like a ghost from the grave. "One more question: where did Drunk Darcy put her cell phone last night?"

Charley smiles. "Fridge." She shovels another forkful of pancake into her mouth.

I grin back and duck into our fridge, retrieving my iPhone from the butter tray. "Ah. An old favorite of hers."

"Just like college all over again."

"It was the highest grade in the class."

"George! That's amazing!" I'm lying upside-down on the couch, Charley at the other end in a similar position playing a vicious game of Words With Friends with James, while I have my own phone pressed against my ear trying to catch up with my baby brother.

"I know. I was super proud until Ana Finklestein said I only do well in school because I have no friends and the whole class laughed at me."

I feel my blood boil. I know she's only a 14 year old girl and her misguided cruelty towards my amazing baby brother is probably just a mechanism for deflecting her own insecurities, but that's no reason to make my brother's life a living hell. Sure he still has his baby fat and says phrases like "super proud," and I'm sure it doesn't help that he's followed her around since they were in third grade (obviously my little brother has as great of taste in the opposite gender as his older sister does!), but if I ever meet this Ana Finkelstein it's going to take a lot for me to not start pulling out her hair.

"Don't listen to her, George. She's just jealous because you're smarter! And so handsome too…!"

Charley chuckles at the other end of the couch. George does too.

"Right, sure. If handsome is now defined as lack of physical prowess and the ability to almost break a chair just by sitting in it, then I'm the most handsome guy in school." George is amazing. He's just so funny, and one day, when the baby fat is gone, he's going to be the most amazing catch.

"Shut up, George—"I'm trying to smack away Charley's foot, that she keeps trying to prod my nose with. "You know you're amazing." I slap Charlie hard on her shin and she retreats back to her corner of the couch.

"Tell him I say hi," she mutters, licking her wounds.

I stick out my tongue at her. "Charley says hi."

"Ask her if she'll marry me," George swoons in keeping with a long-running joke. George has also had a crush on Charley for quite a while. Not a serious crush or anything; he just thinks she's his soul mate or something equally moronic.

"I can't do it, George. Charley's in luuurve with some neeew guy," I mock into the phone, and Charley jumps into attack position.

"Give me the phone!" she commands.

George meanwhile is howling in mock-agony. "No! How could she cheat on me!"

"I don't know, George. Perhaps because she's a heartless bitch?" Every word I utter is punctuated by Charlie reaching for the phone and me fending her off as best I can. I barely get the sentence out before Charley has snatched the phone and George is berating me for cursing in front of his poor, young ears.

"George?" She asks into the phone. "Guess what happened last night." I lay back into the sofa thinking poor George can deal with her sentimental monologue, but I am rudely awakened by her next utterance. "Darcy tried to flirt again. It was awesomely horrific."

Now it's me jumping on her to get the phone. "What are you even talking about!"

"Yeah. I think she liked James—that's my guy—I think she liked his friend because she got all stiff and uncomfortable. Then she got drunk. Then she insulted him. And now she's walking around the house moping." Charley must be made of tough stuff, for, no matter how much I abuse her, she doesn't even pause in her revealing discussion. "Yeah? What? Ok."

Charley pulls the phone from her ear and puts it on speakerphone. George's voice echoes weirdly through our living room, "Darcy. How much of this is true?"

"I don't actually like him—I mean, well he's kind of cute—but really, George, he's just some dumb guy!"

Charley is smirking as if I'd just proved her every point. I drop my head into my hand.

"You sound worse than most of the girls in my grade! Doesn't this stuff get easier as you get older?"

"No!" Charley and I both shout back at him immediately.

George sighs loudly. "If you like this guy, then you should be nice to him and then he will probably want to kiss you."

I scowl. "Great dating advice, mench. What are you nine?"

"Fourteen."

"Right, save the expertise for those who need it—"

Charley interrupts, "Yeah, Darcy is way past help here!"

George is sighing again, like he's some renowned therapist too busy to deal with our childish antics. "I have to go do homework, but Darcy?"

"Yeah?"

"Just be nice, ok?"

"I'm always nice!"

Charley snorts and falls onto the sofa.

"I'll tell mom you say hey," and with that George hangs up and I'm left alone in my living room with Charley disgustingly knowing grin.

"Oh you. Just shut up!" I shout and barge out of the room.

"I didn't say anything!" she shouts back, laughter still tucked happily into her voice.

Next chapter is coming as soon as tomorrow, since that is my day off work. Although my diva dog will probably want to go to the park all day. Shit, man. I need a nap.

Hope you guys are reading this? I'm loving writing a female Darcy. She's just so... daft, yo.