chapter sixty eight

perfect little accident.season six, episode sixteen.(lol, time to grab your popcorn, folks)

. She could practically hear the sirens of the ambulances coming to take her body away, lying limply on the bed as she pictured Mark at the funeral home picking out a casket for her body to lie in during her memorial service. And as someone who had actually dead before, she felt like death was somehow a million times worse than the others; mainly because of the fact that she was still breathing.

Hangovers had never been a big deal for Cassie, considering the fact that she rarely () got them. And if she get them, they were minor, only some slight nausea with a headache that could be cured by taking a couple ibuprofen. But this hangover wasn't like the ones she was used to; this hangover was , and it was It had her on the verge of tears only seconds after waking up, and she hadn't even attempted to open her eyes yet. This hangover felt like .

(Okay, so she was being a little dramatic.)

With a prolonged groan of pain, Cassie carefully peeled one eye open, the other remaining shut as it was smashed between her head and the pillow. Patiently, she waited for the drunken embarrassment of the night prior to come flooding back in waves of shock, just as it usually did after each time she drank her heart away. But oddly enough, it never did, leaving her unable to reminisce on whatever tequila-induced bad choices she'd made.

A breeze from the air conditioning made her shiver, and it was then that she realized her covers were nowhere to be found. Blindly reaching behind herself, she grabbed ahold of them, attempting to yank them over her shoulder, only the covers didn't move an inch. The phenomenon eerily reminded her of her many peaceful mornings several months prior, back when she'd often stay the night at Mark's apartment, and she'd wake up to him cocooned in the sheets while she was left bare, her only heat source being the body beside her. Actually, now that she thought about it, the current moment felt like that—

Cassie's eyes snapped wide open, and with a gasp, she braced herself for the startling revelation that

She wished she could be surprised, but really, it was just a matter of time before Cassie blocked her therapist's number and jumped Mark's bones the first chance she got. Though, she a little surprised that he would it to happen, but then again, he could have been just as drunk as she was ().

When she turned over, Cassie expected her gaze to land on chiseled muscles, light brown hair flecked with grey, and the face of the man she loved more than life itself. She expected him to already be awake, looking back at her, a mixture of sadness and relief in his eyes, knowing that this wouldn't change anything between them. At least, not yet.

Only, when she turned over, Cassie was slapped in the face with the realization that there wasn't a in her bed, at all.

"Lexie?"

The other girl's eyes were locked on the ceiling above them, wide, . At the mention of her name, she pressed the sheets even closer to her chest — her chest — and faced Cassie with what could only be described as severe and existential dread. She blinked, not once, but twice, before whispering out a panicked yet entirely true statement—

"Rue is gonna me."

.

"No, she's not," Cassie replied slowly, sitting up at a delayed pace while reaching for the nearest item of clothing that happened to be sprawled across her bedroom floor. As she got to her feet, she chose to ignore the fact that Lexie could see, well, .

"We had , Cass!" Lexie whispered fiercely, so loudly that she may as well had just said it at a normal volume. "Drunken, messy, good but also very, messed up !"

"Lexie!" Cassie snapped, her patience running thin as she pulled the t-shirt from the floor over her head. "Rue is going to kill you, because aregoing to tell her!"

Lexie paused, and when she looked at her, Cassie saw that the thought of to their respective exes had yet to cross her hazy, alcohol-soaked mind.

"We're not?"

Cassie didn't enjoy being untruthful; in fact, doing so made her feel more guilty than anything else. Sure, harmless white lies never hurt, but the lies? Those were the ones she did her best to stay away from. After all, the last time she neglected to tell the truth, she ended up with a broken nose and a pseudo-older brother telling her she was unlovable; let's just say, lying never turned out well for as long as Cassie was involved.

"It'll only hurt them if they knew," she reasoned calmly, despite the girl under the covers still being in full fledged panic-mode. "It was just a one night stand. Besides, it's not like— it's not like any of us are , anymore, right? We— we didn't do anything ."

(.)

"Them?" Lexie murmured under her breath, before letting out a gasp and raising her voice to a volume which made the pounding in Cassie's head increase tenfold. "Oh godSloan is gonna me!"

"Dude, !" Cassie rubbed her temples, the rays of sun coming in through the window only making everything feel worse (). "Fuck, what time is it?"

Lexie checked the time on the clock, and judging by the look on her face, it was pretty safe to assume they were running late.

Sure enough, when the second year resident tossed Cassie her phone, she realized that they each only had about two minutes to get dressed, brush their teeth, and make it across the street to the hospital, before Bailey suddenly materialized before them with a lecture in her back pocket. Slyly, she sniffed the t-shirt she'd just thrown on, cringing at the scent of several different boozes mixed together with— ?