Definitely daylight. The pounding in my head tells me so.

My stomach heaves briefly while it tries to catch up with movement which is lightspeeds ahead of its current capability. Did I send it? Say no, I beg my memory. Memory is empty, computer says the sound that Family Fortunes makes when the big yellow cross comes up on the screen that looks like an AS400 reject. I swing my feet over the edge of the bed and push feebly at the covers clogging up my destiny.

If I sent it, Luke would have shared it for sure because guys with other guys are on the whole, jerks. Which means that Jesse would know that I am interested. I don't want to be interested. Ok, I was interested, on a physical level, but since he has a girlfriend, means interested for me is in the clear no fly zone around people who have partners who look like Aubrey Posen.

There could be a whole conversation on my cell from last night that I wasn't a participating part of because I brat bailed.

"Move damnit, move."

Heart beating ninety seven to the dozen, my toes register carpet and the random detritus left on the floor from when I got ready for my shower last night. The steel bit on the end of stiletto really fucking hurts on an unsuspecting insole. Just saying.

I should be tidier, but revelations like, 'I should be tidier, only happen when I am in a rush to be doing something else, somewhere else, aka where the La La La did I leave my cell. I never bring guys back to my own place, if that were even a possibility, because the only consistently clear space is my bed. Thinking about it, living here could break out a whole new me. There is space. And closets. And more floor.

My body reminds me that my quest needs to include a bathroom in my near future. Obviously, I will avoid the mirror. I open the bedroom door so hard that it nearly unbalances me. I swear blind for the first time in what will undoubtedly be a long line of swearing blind that I will drink less next time I go to a social gathering. Unless it is uncomfortable, leading to a 'Take glass in case of emergency,' situation.

I limp pathetically along the hallway. Passing my Dad's bedroom, rampant snoring tells me Dad is still comfortably comatose. Pity party for one is probably a good thing. I hold on to the wall for a long minute while I rub my foot and pull agony faces. Ten steps, nine and I am on the corner of Kitchen and Hallway scanning uselessly for my cell.

My Dad is a neatfreak.

Of course it is absolutely not where I left it.

If I wasn't so sure that the auto-lock would kick in, I would be worrying about him invading Beca-space with a bit more energy. As it is, I just need to freaking find it already. There aren't even piles of paper or magazines I can toss to look for it, it will be on a clear surface. Somewhere.

I eventually spy it perfectly aligned with the remote control on the coffee table in the Living Room. It takes a few seconds to punch in a code while I hobble back to the kitchen to raid the First Aid box for Advil. The little white block blinking on the Reply screen lets my breath whoosh out and my shoulders drop a mile. I hit backspace faster than a guy in Darth Vader get up saying, "I find your lack of faith, inhale, exhale, disturbing.'

I let myself hold my head for a few seconds just breathing. Just leaning against the kitchen counter. Jesse knows nothing. Luke knows nothing. I know things I think I know. I clear the reply window, only to find that Luke texted me again after the 'who is Jesse?' and I didn't reply.

Never mind – L

My thumb hovers over the jump button to internet. It can wait.

A little scroll down further reveals another entry.

Jesse wants your number - L

What is it about guys with girls that want another one? I don't get it. Isn't one enough? I don't like the idea of Jesse being that big a douche for some reason. I can't really remember who made the first move on the balcony, but I don't think it was him. It was us. Ugh. There is no Us. I shut off the screen.

One disgusting taste and a half glass of ice cold water later, I'm on my way back to the spare room and en-suite. I pick up after myself, slinging last night's clothes into a small holdall and crawling inside a pair of jeans and a fake SWAT sweatshirt. It leaves me feeling almost human.

I brave the bathroom, perform the barest of ablutions and catch my pissed expression in the mirror. Whoever's face that is needs eyeliner, more attitude, and headphones. Everything looks better with headphones.

By the time Dad knocks on my door with liquid breakfast, I am blissed out on the prospects of Carly Rae chomping on Pink. It has a definite dancefloor vibe, it needs Synth and a heavy downbeat and I need my laptop so bad it hurts. I didn't bring it. The Bluetooth is hooking up with my cell so I can't mess with anything other than in my head. I can wait until I get to Luke's. Just.

-/-

My Dad drops me off at Luke's, which is really sweet since he got on my case again and I threw him leaving back in his face. Pulling out of the traffic, but leaving the engine running he has another go for good measure.

"You know I want you to really invest in your future Becs. I need to see you make an effort here."

I'd ask him to come to one of my gigs, but the idea is ridiculous and if he had been paying attention last night he would have seen just how invested I get. I guess the last one is a little unfair, since it was supposed to his party and all.

"I get it Dad, really." I try to sound as earnest as I mean it. His face looks speculative for a second.

"I'm only looking out for you. You're not getting any younger."

I nail my tongue to the roof of my mouth. It has taken him three decades to get to the Bestseller lists. Maybe that's what he means. He was a college professor until on-line readers found him.

"Thanks for the ride Dad." I give him a peck on the cheek and squeeze out of the idling SUV.

"Call me when you get home."

"Sure."

"From the landline. Tonight."

I duck my head for a minute in disbelief. "Sure Dad." I slam the car door before he can say another word. Even though is its all of twenty seconds up the front steps to hang on Luke's doorbell, I put my headset back on, with one on and one behind my ears.

The intercom crackles to life. "Beca?"

I check I hit the right button. The right number is lit so no problem there.

Funny, it didn't sound like him.