Hangover from Hell
Swimming to consciousness feels like wading through treacle. Every inch of my body aches, my head is pounding, and my stomach rolls at the thought of moving. My eyes refuse to open despite numerous attempts and instead, images flash through my mind as the events of last night slowly start to filter back. The girls hitting on Jackson. The shots I was downing with no regard to my poor liver. Dancing, oh God no, the dancing on the bar. Jackson pulling me down off said bar and our ensuing fight. Me storming off to the office and becoming intimately acquainted with a tequila bottle. And finally, being washed by Jackson.
I let out an involuntary groan. Then someone moves next to me. Oh fuck. The memory of Jackson spooning me flicks into my mind. "No, no," I mutter, hoping to retreat back to unconsciousness.
"Don't worry, Kit Kat. It's just me," I hear Finn say in a reassuring tone.
"Thank heavens," I rasp out as I finally manage to peel my eyes open. The relief coursing through my body briefly negates my crippling hangover.
Propping himself up on his elbow, Finn scans me from head to toe, finally returning to look me in the eyes. "How do you feel?" Finn asks with a grimace on his face and concern lacing his words.
"I don't think shit even begins to describe it. What are you doing here? And where's Jackson?" I have so many questions but lightning strikes of pain are coursing through my temples making it hard to pull a sentence together.
"I wasn't sure if you would remember any of what happened, so I sent him home. You were so tanked I needed to make sure you didn't puke in your sleep, so I stayed in here with you." Finn sweeps an arm out motioning to the precautionary bin placed next to the bed and the pillows that had been propped to keep me on my side.
"Fuck. I am so sorry, Finn. I shouldn't have let things get so out of control last night. And… thanks… thanks for staying with me," I say, feeling utterly dejected by what I must have put Finn through last night. The dark circles under his eyes are testimony to the fact that he probably got next to no sleep.
"I love you, Kit Kat. You know that. But don't ever pull shit like that again, you hear me?" Finn says sternly. I nod my head and he continues, "Right, Devon and the twins are handling the bar today and tonight for us. I am going to head to my bed, and then later we are going to go out for some dinner and talk. Because this crap is getting old and you need to sort yourself out."
Groaning, I bury my head in my pillows as Finn climbs out of my bed and ambles out the door to his own bedroom. The last thing I need today is to have Finn rip me a new one. I am severely dehydrated, my mouth so parched my tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth so I am beyond grateful when I spy a glass of water, painkillers, and an energy drink on the bedside table. That boy is an angel, I think to myself, knowing that however angry Finn might be at me, he is always there for me.
Once I have taken the painkillers and drunk enough to slake my thirst without making me want to throw up, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
~*~*~
I am curled up on the couch in the early afternoon under my duvet when Finn comes ambling in, his dark brown hair sticking up in all directions. There's a cooling breeze coming in through the open balcony doors and, as Finn is only in a pair of shorts, I lift the duvet for him to join me. Wordlessly he slumps down beside me, letting out a sigh. Not for the first time, I wonder why Finn and I have never ended up together. We are practically married as it is; we live together, we own a business together, and we are best friends. On paper, we should be a couple. Yeah, apart from the fact we have zero sexual chemistry. I mean, don't get me wrong, Finn is bloody gorgeous to look at, with the kind of toned body that girls love to ogle and rich chocolate-brown eyes that sparkle with mischief, but when I think of him in that way I feel nothing…nada.
"Why the hell are you watching Pitch Perfect again?" Finn grumbles, motioning to the TV.
"Because I like it, and you were asleep," I retort, smiling widely at him. "Besides, I know you love a bit of a cappella. I hear you in the shower sometimes," I giggle.
"Bloody hell, Kat. You smell like a brewery." He wrinkles his nose and shoves my shoulder playfully.
"Yeah, I feel disgusting. I was just working up the energy to go have a shower," I sigh.
"Well, go do that and then let's head out and grab something to eat. I'm starving."
"The diner?" I suggest this amazing retro American-style diner that we both love.
"Definitely," Finn agrees.
I heave myself up off the couch with a groan, flipping Finn off when he sniggers at me.
It feels so nice to stand under the hot water that I end up spending ages in the bathroom re-washing my long blonde hair and soaping my body thoroughly. Eventually, though, Finn bangs on the door and tells me to hurry up, so I quickly dry myself off and pull on a pair of grey skinny jeans which I team with a floaty blouse in fuchsia hoping that it will bring out some colour in my cheeks. I slip on a pair of sparkly flip-flops, grateful that the weather is finally starting to feel a little more summery and grab a thin grey knitted cardigan that falls to my knees. Knowing that I don't have enough time to blow my hair out I plait it into a loose French braid which I then twist up and secure with a pink flower clip. A little bit of blush takes away my pallor, and a slick of mascara brightens my eyes. Finally, I feel ready to step outside the flat and out into reality.